19
And now, while some dear friend or wife,
Like lightning, rush'd on ev'ry fancy,
To Providence I trusted life,
Put up a pray'r—and thought on Nancy.
At last, 'twas in the month of May,
The crew, it being lovely weather,
At three, A. M. discover'd day,
And England's chalky cliffs together;
At seven, up channel how we bore!
While hopes and fears rush'd on my fancy!
At twelve I gaily jump'd ashore,
And to my throbbing heart press'd Nancy.
The Willow Tree.
OH! take me to your arms, my love,
For keen the wind doth blow:
Oh! take me to your arms, my love,
For bitter is my woe!
She hears me not, she cares not,
Nor will she list to me;
While here I lie, in misery,
Beneath the Willow Tree.
My love has wealth and beauty—
The rich attend her door
My love has wealth and beauty,
And I, alas, am poor!
The ribband fair, that bound her hair,
Is all that's left to me;
While here I lie, in misery,
Beneath the Willow Tree.
