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When I thought her my own, ah! too short seemed the day For a jaunt to Downpatrick, or a trip on the sea; To express what I felt, then all language was vain, 'Twas in truth what the poets have studied to feign. But, too late, I found even she could deceive, And nothing was left but to sigh, weep, and rave; Distracted, I flew from my dear native shore, Resolved to see Larghan Clanbrassil no more.
'O Larghan Clanbrassil, how sweet is thy sound, To my tender remembrance as Love's sacred ground; For there Marg'ret Caroline first charm'd my sight, And fill'd my young heart with a flutt'ring delight.
Yet still in some moments enchanted I find A ray of her fondness beams soft on my mind; While thus in bless'd fancy my angel I see, All the world is a Larghan Clanbrassil to me. On this journey with Boswell there was a Margaret his own cousin, and it is curious to find him in this mood of sentimental philandering, were it no worse, when we have now to see Bozzy at the end of his love affairs.
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