No Will-o’-th’-Wisp mislight thee,
Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;
  But on, on thy way,
  Not making a stay,
Since ghost there’s none to affright thee.

Let not the dark thee cumber;
What though the moon does slumber? 
  The stars of the night
  Will lend thee their light,
Like tapers clear, without number.

Then, Julia, let me woo thee,
Thus, thus to come unto me;
  And when I shall meet
  Thy silv’ry feet,
My soul I’ll pour into thee.

        Herrick.

TOM BOWLING.

Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling,
  The darling of our crew;
No more he’ll hear the tempest howling,
  For death has broach’d him to. 
His form was of the manliest beauty,
  His heart was kind and soft;
Faithful below he did his duty. 
  But now he’s gone aloft.

Tom never from his word departed,
  His virtues were so rare;
His friends were many and true-hearted,
  His Poll was kind and fair: 
And then he’d sing so blithe and jolly;
  Ah, many’s the time and oft! 
But mirth is turn’d to melancholy,
  For Tom is gone aloft.

Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather,
  When He who all commands,
Shall give, to call life’s crew together,
  The word to pipe all hands. 
Thus Death, who kings and tars dispatches,
  In vain Tom’s life has doff’d;
For though his body’s under hatches,
  His soul is gone aloft.

        Charles Dibdin.

MY LOVE IS LIKE THE RED RED ROSE.

My love is like the red red rose That’s newly sprung in June; My love is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
  So deep in love am I;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
  Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
  And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
  While the sands of life shall run.

But, fare thee weel, my only love,
  And fare thee weel awhile;
And I will come again, my dear,
  Though ’twere ten thousand mile.

        Burns.

WIDOW MALONE.

Did you hear of the Widow Malone,
                        Ohone! 
Who lived in the town of Athlone! 
                        Ohone! 
  Oh, she melted the hearts
  Of the swains in them parts,
So lovely the Widow Malone,
                        Ohone! 
So lovely the Widow Malone.

Of lovers she had a full score,
                        Or more,
And fortunes they all had galore,
                        In store;
  From the minister down
  To the clerk of the crown,
All were courting the Widow Malone,
                        Ohone! 
All were courting the Widow Malone.