The watch is set, and through the night,
We hear the seaman with delight,
'Proclaim-ALL'S WELL.
IF A BODY MEET A BODY COMIN' THRO'
THE RYE.
Ir a body meet a body comin' thro' the rye,
If a body kiss a body, need a body cry?
Every Lassie has her Laddie,
Nane, they say, ,ha' I,
Yet a' the lads they smile at me
When comin' thro' the rye.
Among the train there is a swain
I dearly lo'e mysel',
But where his hame or what his name,
If a body meet a body comin' frae the town, If a body greet a body, need a body frown? Every Lassie has her Laddie,
Nane, they say, ha' I,
Yet a' the lads they smile at me,
When comin' thro' the rye.
Among the train there is a swain
I dearly lo'e mysel',
But where his hame or what his name,
I dinna care to tell.
FLY TO THE DESERT.
FLY to the desert, fly with me,
Our Arab tents are rude for thee;
But oh! the choice what heart can doubt,
Of tents with love or thrones without?
Our rocks are rough, but smiling there
Th' acacia waves her yellow hair,
Lonely and sweet, nor lov'd the less
For flowering in a wilderness.
Our sands are bare, but down their slope
The silver-footed antelope
As gracefully and gaily springs
As o'er the marble court of kings.
Then come-thy Arab maid will be
The lov'd and lone acacia tree,
The antelope, whose feet shall bless
With their light sound thy loneliness.
Oh! there are looks and tones that dart
An instant sunshine through the heart,
As if the soul that minute caught
Some treasure it through life had sought;
As if the very lips and eyes
Predestin'd to have all our sighs,
And never be forgot again,
Sparkled and spoke before us then!
So came thy very glance and tone,
When first on me they breath'd and shone ;
New as if brought from other spheres,
Yet welcome as if lov'd for years!
Then fly with me-if thou hast known
No other flame, nor falsely thrown
A gem away, that thou hast sworn
Should ever in thy heart be worn,
Come, if the love thou hast for me
Is pure and fresh as mine for thee,
Fresh as the fountain under ground,
When first 'tis by the lapwing found.*
But if for me thou dost forsake,
Some other maid, and rudely break
Her worshipp'd image from its base,
To give to me the ruin'd place;
Then, fare thee well-I'd rather make-
My bower upon some icy lake,
When thawing suns begin to shine,
Than trust to love so false as thine!
AS SLOW OUR SHIP.
AIR- The Girl I left behind me.'
As slow our ship her foamy track
Against the wind was cleaving,
Her trembling pennant still looked back,
To that dear isle 'twas leaving.
So loth we part from all we love,
From all the links that bind us;
So turn our hearts where'er we rove,
To those we've left behind us!
When, round the bowl, of vanish'd years
We talk with joyous seeming,
And smiles that might as well be tears,
So faint, so sad their beaming;
While memory brings us back again
Each early tie that twin'd us;
Oh! sweet's the cup that circles then
To those we've left behind us!
*The hudhud, or lapwing, is supposed to have the power of discovering water under ground.
And when in other climes we meet,
Some isle or vale enchanting,
Where all looks flowery, wild and sweet,
And nought but love is wanting;
We think how great had been our bliss,
If Heaven had but assign'd us,
To live and die in scenes like this,
With some we've left behind us!
As travelers oft look back at eve,
When eastward darkly going,
To gaze upon that light they leave
Still faint behind them glowing-
So when the close of pleasure's day
To gloom hath near consign'd us,
We turn to catch one fading ray
Of joy that's left behind us.
THE PIRATE LOVER.-By J. G. Percival.
THOU art gone from thy lover,
Thou lord of the sea!
The illusion is over
That bound me to thee;
I cannot regret thee,
Though dearest thou wert,
Nor can I forget thee,
Thou lord of my heart.
I lov'd thee too deeply
To hate thee and live:
I am blind to the brightest
My country can give;
But I cannot behold thee
In plunder and gore,
And thy Minna can fold thee
In fondness no more.
Far over the billow
Thy black vessel rides ;
The wave is thy pillow,
Thy pathway the tides;
Thy cannons are pointed,
Thy red flag on high,
Thy crew are undaunted,
But yet thou must die.
I thought thou wert brave
As the sea-kings of old;
But thy heart is a slave
And a victim to gold:
My faith can be plighted
To none but the free;
Thy low heart has blighted
My fond hopes in thee.
1 will not upbraid thee;
I leave thee to bear
The shame thou hast made thee,
Its danger and care:
As thy banner is streaming
Far over the sea,
O! my fond heart is dreaming
And breaking for thee.
My heart thou hast broken,
Thou lord of the wave!
Thou hast left me a token
To rest in my grave:
Though false, mean and cruel,
Thou still must be dear,"
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