Sweet William’s Farewell To Black-Ey’d Susan

A Ballad

All in the Downs the fleet was moor’d,

The streamers waving in the wind,

When black-ey’d Susan came aboard.

Oh! 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,

Rock’d with the billow to and fro,

Soon as her well-known voice he heard,

He sigh’d, 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 pois’d in air,

Shuts close his pinions to his breast,

(If, chance, his mate’s shrill call he hear)

And drops at once into her nest.

The noblest captain in the British fleet,

Might envy William’s lip those kisses sweet.

’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.

’Believe not what the landmen say,

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind:

They’ll tell thee, sailors, when away,

In ev’ry port a mistress find.

Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,

For thou art present wheresoe’er I go.

’If to far India’s coast we sail,

Thy eyes are seen in di’monds bright,

Thy breath is Afric’s spicy gale,

Thy skin is ivory, so white.

Thus ev’ry 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 kiss’d, she sigh’d, he hung his head.

Her less’ning boat, unwilling rows to land:

’Adieu’, she cries! and wav’d her lily hand.

To a Lady

When I some antique Jar behold,

Or white, or blue, or speck’d with gold,

Vessels so pure, and so refin’d

Appear the types of woman-kind:

Are they not valu’d for their beauty,

Too fair, too fine for household duty?

With flowers and gold and azure dy’d,

Of ev’ry house the grace and pride?

How white, how polish’d is their skin,

And valu’d most when only seen!

She who before was highest priz’d

Is for a crack or flaw despis’d;

I grant they’re frail, yet they’re so rare,

The treasure cannot cost too dear!

But Man is made of coarser stuff,

And serves convenience well enough;

He’s a strong earthen vessel made,

For drudging, labour, toil and trade;

And when wives lose their other self,

With ease they bear the loss of Delf.

The Hare and Many Friends

Friendship, like love, is but a name,

Unless to one you stint the flame.

The child, whom many fathers share,

Hath seldom known a father’s care.

Tis thus in friendships; who depend

On many, rarely find a friend.

A hare, who in a civil way,

Complied with everything, like Gay,

Was known by all the bestial train

Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain.

Her care was never to offend,

And every creature was her friend.

As forth she went at early dawn,

To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn,

Behind she hears the hunter’s cries,

And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies.

She starts, she stops, she pants for breath;

She hears the near advance of death;

She doubles to mislead the hound,

And measures back her mazy round;

Till fainting in the public way,

Half-dead with fear, she gasping lay.

What transport in her bosom grew,

When first the horse appeared in view!

“Let me”, says she, “your back ascend,

And owe my safety to a friend.