Change comes o'er thy valley fair;
Once, alas! but not again

Can the same stream hold thee e'er.

And thyself, what erst at least

Firm as rocks appear'd to rise,
Walls and palaces thou seest

But with ever-changing eyes.
Fled for ever now the lip

That with kisses used to glow,
And the foot, that used to skip

O'er the mountain, like the roe.

And the hand, so true and warm,

Ever raised in charity,
And the cunning-fashion'd form,--

All are now changed utterly.
And what used to bear thy name,

When upon yon spot it stood,
Like a rolling billow came,

Hast'ning on to join the flood.