It was not in the battle; His sword was in its sheath, Weigh the vessel up Once dreaded by our foes! The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again Full charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant main ; But Kempenfelt is gone, And he and his eight hundred Shall plough the wave no more. W. Cowper CXXX BLACK-EYED SUSAN All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd, William, who high upon the yard Rock'd with the billow to and fro, Soon as her well-known voice he heard He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below: The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, And quick as lightning on the deck he stands. So the sweet lark, high poised in air, And drops at once into her nest :- 6 'O Susan, 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 '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, Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale, Thy skin is ivory so white. Thus every beauteous object that I view 'Though battle call me from thy arms Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.' The boatswain gave the dreadful word, The sails their swelling bosom spread; No longer must she stay aboard; They kiss'd, she sigh'd, he hung his head. CXXXI SALLY IN OUR ALLEY Of all the girls that are so smart Her father he makes cabbage-nets To such as please to buy 'em : When she is by, I leave my work, Of all the days that's in the week And that's the day that comes betwixt A Saturday and Monday; For then I'm drest all in my best To walk abroad with Sally; She is the darling of my heart, My master carries me to church, Because I leave him in the lurch When Christmas comes about again I would it were ten thousand pound, My master and the neighbours all O then we'll wed, and then we'll bed, H. Carey CXXXII A FAREWELL Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, A service to my bonnie lassie : Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry, The ship rides by the Berwick-law, The trumpets sound, the banners fly, The shouts o' war are heard afar, The battle closes thick and bloody; But it's not the roar o' sea or shore CXXXIII If doughty deeds my lady please And he that bends not to thine eye Shall rue it to his smart! Then tell me how to woo thee, Love; O tell me how to woo thee ! For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take If gay attire delight thine eye I'll tend thy chamber door all night, But if fond love thy heart can gain, Nae maiden lays her skaith to me, For you alone I strive to sing, O tell me how to woo! Then tell me how to woo thee, Love; O tell me how to woo thee! For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take, Graham of Gartmore |