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Ah! cruel hard-hearted to preſs him,
and force the dear youth from my arms ;
Reſtore him, that I may careſs him,
and shield him from future alarms.
In vain you inſult and deride me,
and make but a ſcoff at my woes;
You ne'er from my dear ſhall divide me,
I'll 'follow wherever he goes.
Think not of the mercileſs ocean,
my foul any forrow can brave !
For ſoon as the ſhip makes its motion,
ſo ſoon ſhall the ſea be my grave.
The Sailor's Widow's Lament for his Death on Board the 'Trial.
FIRST when I met my ſailor bold,
was by yon fountain ſpring,
Where my true love to me be gave,
a locket and a ring;
A diamond-ring of the pure gold,
its motto was true love,
I thought nothing but death itſelf
ſhould ever it remove.
CHORUS.
The-woods, the woods, the blooming woods,
ſo freſh and fair to ſee,
I wiſh I were with my ſailor,
in his ſweet company.
