Each lost delight and dear friend left behind!

Wild Murcia’s vales, and loved romantic bowers,

The river on whose banks a child I played,

My castle’s ancient halls, its frowning towers,

Each much-regretted wood, and well-known glade,

Dreams of the land where all my wishes centre,

Thy scenes, which I am doomed no more to know,

Full oft shall memory trace, my soul’s tormentor,