A time will come with feeling fraught! SIR WALTER SCOTT. TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS. TELL me not, sweet, I am unkinde, Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde, True, a new mistresse now I chase, - Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore ; I could not love thee, deare, so much, Loved I not honor inore. RICHARD LOVELACE. "Believe not what the landmen say Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind: They'll tell thee, sailors, when away, In every port a mistress find: 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 skin is ivory so white. "Though battle call me from thy arms, Let not my pretty Susan mourn; Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, The boatswain gave the dreadful word, The sails their swelling bosom spread ; No longer must she stay aboard: They kissed, she sighed, he hung his head. Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land; "Adieu!" she cried; and waved her lily hand. JOHN GAY. BLACK-EYED SUSAN. ALL in the Downs the fleet was moored, "O, where shall I my true-love find? Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true If my sweet William sails among the crew." William, who high upon the yard Rocked with the billow to and fro, Soon as her well-known voice he heard He sighed, 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, Shuts close his pinions to his breast "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 The faithful compass that still points to thee. HERO TO LEANDER. O, Go not yet, my love, The night is dark and vast; The white moon is hid in her heaven above, And the waves climb high and fast O, kiss me, kiss me, once again, Lest thy kiss should be the last. O, kiss me ere we part; Grow closer to my heart. My heart is warmer surely than the bosom of the main. O joy! O bliss of blisses! My heart of hearts art thou. Come, bathe me with thy kisses, My eyelids and my brow. Hark how the wild rain hisses, And the loud sea roars below. Thy heart beats through thy rosy limbs, Thine eye in drops of gladness swims. I have bathed thee with the pleasant myrrh; Thy locks are dripping balm ; |