Sivut kuvina

Thy payment shall but double be;

O then with speed resign
My own seduced heart to me,
Accompanied with thine.


A DAMSEL DEPLORING HER LOVER. 'Twas when the seas were roaring,

With hollow blasts of wind,
A damsel lay deploring,

All on a rock reclin'd.
Wide o'er the foaming billows

She cast a wistful look;
Her head was crown'd with willows

That trembled o'er the brook.

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• Twelve months are gone and over,

And nine long tedious days; Why didst thou, vent'rous lover,

Why didst thou trust the seas?
Cease, cease, thou cruel ocean,

And let my lover rest:
Ah! what's thy troubled motion,

To that within my breast?

'The merchant, robb’d of pleasure,

Views tempests in despair;
But what's the loss of treasure

To losing of my dear?
Should you some coast be laid on

Where gold and di'monds grow,
You'll find a richer maiden,

But none that loves you so.

• How can they say that nature

Has nothing made in vain? Why then beneath the water

Do hideous rocks remain? No eyes these rocks discover,

That lurk beneath the deep, To wreck the wand'ring lover,

And leave the maid to weep."

All melancholy lying,

Thus wail'd she for her dear;
Repaid each blast with sighing,

Each billow with a tear:
When, o'er the white wave stooping,

His floating corpse she spied;
Then, like a lily drooping,

She bow'd her head, and died.


All in the Downs the fleet was moord,
The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-ey'd Susan came on board,

• O where shall I my trne-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true,
If my sweet William sails among your crew.'

William, who high apon the yard
Rock'd by the billows to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,

He sigh’d, and east his eyes below;
The cord glides swiftly through his glowing bands,
And quick as lightning on the deck he stands


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So the sweet lark, high-pois'd in air,
Shuts close bis pinions to his breast,
If chance his mate's shrill call he bear,

And drops at once into her nest.
The noblest captain in the British fleet'
Might envy William's lips those kisses sweet.

'O Sasan, Susan, lovely dear!
My vows shall ever true remain;
Let me kiss off that falling tear;

We only part to meet again.:
Change as ye list, ye winds, my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.

Believe not what the landmen say,
Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind :
They'll tell thee sailors, when away,
At ev'ry port a mistress find.
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
For thou art present wheresoe'er I go.

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'If to fair India's coast we sail,
Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright;
Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale,

Thy skin is ivory so white.
Thas every beauteous object that I view
Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sne.

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" Though battle calls me from thy arms,
Let not my pretty Susan mourn ;
Though cannons roar, yet free from harms,

William shall to his dear return:
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.'

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The boatswaip gives the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosoms spread;
No longer must she stay on board :

They kiss'd; she sigh'd; he hung his head; Her less’ning boat unwilling, rows to land; Adieu ! she cries, and wav'd her lily hand.


O NANCY, WILT THOU GO WITH ME? O NANCY! wilt thou go with me,

Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town? Can silent glens have charms for thee,

The lowly cot and russet gown? No longer dress’d in silken sheen,

No longer deck'd with jewels rare, Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene

Where thou wert fairest of the fair? O Nancy! when thou’rt far away,

Wilt thou not cast a wish behind ? Say, canst thou face the parching ray,

Nor shrink before the wintry wind ? O can that soft and gentle mien

Extremes of hardship learn to bear, Nor sad regret each courtly scene

Where thou wert fairest of the fair? O Nancy! canst thou love so true,

Through perils keen with me to go; Or, when thy swain mishap shall rue,

To share with him the pang of woe? Say, should disease or pain befall,

Wilt thou assume the nurse's care, Nor wistful those gay scenes recali

Where thon wert fairest of the fair?

And when at last thy love shall die,

Wilt thou receive his parting breath? Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh,

And cheer with smiles the bed of death?
And wilt thou o'er his breathless clay

Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear?
Nor then regret those scenes so gay
Where thou wert fairest of the fair?


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The silver moon's enamour'd beam

Steals softly through the night,
To wanton with the winding stream,

And kiss reflected light.
To beds of state go, balmy sleep,

('Tis where you've seldom been) May's vigil while the shepherd's keep

With Kate of Aberdeen.

Upon the green the virgins wait,

In rosy chaplets gay,
Till morn unbar her golden gate,

And give the promis'd May.
Methinks I hear the maids declare

The promis'd. May, when seen, Not half so fragrant, half so fair,

As Kate of Aberdeen.

Strike up the tabor's boldest notes,

We'll rouse the nodding grove ;
The nested birds shall raise their throats,

And hail the maid I love.

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