ALL in the Downs the fleet was moor'd, The streamers waving in the wind, When black-eyed SUSAN came on board, "O where shall I my true-love find? Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, If my sweet WILLIAM sails among your crew?” WILLIAM, who high upon the yard The cord glides swiftly through his glowing hands, So the sweet lark high poised in air The noblest captain in the British fleet Might envy WILLIAM's lips those kisses sweet. "O SUSAN, "O SUSAN, SUSAN, lovely dear! Change as ye list, ye winds, my heart shall be "Believe not what the landmen say, Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind; Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so, "If to fair India's coast we sail, Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, Thus, every beauteous object that I view "Tho' battle calls me from thy arms, Let not my pretty SUSAN mourn ; Tho' cannons roar, yet free from harms Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, Lest precious tears should drop from SUSAN's eye." The The boatswain gives the dreadful word, They kiss'd; she sigh'd; he hung his head: GAY. ONE morning very carly, one morning in the spring, "O cruel were his parents who sent my love to sea! "O should it please the pitying pow'rs to call me to the sky, “I'll make a strawy garland, I'll make it wondrous fine, 66 Oh, if I were a little bird to build upon his breast, "Oh, if I were an eagle to soar into the sky! I'd gaze around with piercing eyes where I my love might spy; Ir was a winter's evening, and fast came down the snow, And keenly o'er the wide heath the bitter blast did blow, When a damsel all forlorn, quite bewilder'd in her way, Press'd her baby to her bosom, and sadly thus did say: "Oh! "Oh! cruel was my father, that shut his door on me, And cruel was my mother, that such a sight did see, And cruel is the wintry wind that chills my heart with cold, But crueller than all, the lad that left my love for gold. "Hush, hush, my lovely baby, and warm thee in my breast: "Cold, cold, my dearest jewel! thy little life is gone: Oh! let my tears revive thec, so warm that trickle down. My tears that gush so warm, oh! they freeze before they fall: Ah wretched, wretched mother! thou'rt now bereft of all!" 'Then down she sunk despairing upon the drifted snow, * The editor would not have ventured to insert a composition of his own in a select collection, had it not already been received with marks of the public approbation. It is scarcely necessary to point out an imitation of the preceding piece in its manner; though not in its subject. Он, |