A time will come with feeling fraught! Shall be a thought on thee, Mary. 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 more. 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, For Thou art present wheresoe'er I go. "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 Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue. "Though battle call me from thy arms, Let not my pretty Susan mourn; Though cannons roar, yet safe 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." 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 cries; and waved her lily hand. JOHN GAY. 66 BLACK-EYED SUSAN. ALL in the Downs the fleet was moored, 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 ; Change as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be HERO TO LEANDER. O, Go not yet, my love, The night is dark and vast; The white moon is hid in her heaven above, 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 ; The ocean with the morrow light My mother listening to my sleep Will be both blue and calm; Heard nothing but a sigh at night, And the billow will embrace thee with a kiss as The short sigh rippling on the deep, LOCHABER NO MORE. FAREWELL to Lochaber! and farewell, my Jean, Though hurricanes rise, and rise every wind, They'll ne'er make a tempest like that in my mind; Though loudest of thunder on louder waves roar, Then glory, my Jeany, maun plead my excuse; I gae then, my lass, to win honor and fame, |