3 Believe not what the landfmen fay,, who tempt with doubts thy conftant mind, They‘ll tell thee, Sailors, when away, in every port a miftrefs find : Yes, yes, believe them, when they tell thee fo, For thou art prefent wherefoe'er I go.
If to far India's coaft we fail; thy eyes are leen in diamonds bright, Thy breath in Africs fpicy gale, thy fkin is ivory fo white. Thus ev ry beauteous object that I v'ew Wakes in my foul fome charm of lovely,Sue.
Tho‘ battle calls me from thy arms, let not my pretty Sufan mourn, Tho' cannons roar, yet fafe from harms William will to his dear return : Love turns aside the balls that round my fly, Left precious tears fhould drop from Sufan's eyes.
The boatfwam gave the dreadful word,
the fails their fwelling bofoms fpread;
No longer muft fhe ftay on board,
they kifs‘d, fhe sigh'd he hung his head,
Her lefsnmg boat unwilling rows to land,
Adieu, fhe cries, and wav 'd her lilly hand.
The Absent Lover. What ails this heart o' mine ? What ails this wat’ry e’e ?
