A time will come with feeling fraught! 
For, if I fall in battle fought,
Thy hapless lover’s dying thought
  Shall be a thought on thee.  Mary. 
And if returned from conquered foes,
How blithely will the evening close,
How sweet the linnet sing repose,
  To my young bride and me, Mary!

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

BLACK-EYED SUSAN.

All in the Downs the fleet was moored,
  The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eyed Susan came aboard;
  “O, 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
  Rocked with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard
  He sighed, 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 poised 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 lips 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 every port a mistress find;
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
For thou art present wheresoe’er I go.

“If to fair India’s coast we sail,
  Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy breath is Afric’s spicy gale,
  Thy skin is ivory so white. 
Thus every 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 kissed, she sighed, he hung his head. 
Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land;
  “Adieu!” she cried; and waved her lily hand.

JOHN GAY.

THE PARTING LOVERS.

She says, “The cock crows,—­hark!”
He says, “No! still ’tis dark.”

She says, “The dawn grows bright,”
He says, “O no, my Light.”

She says, “Stand up and say,
Gets not the heaven gray?”

He says, “The morning star
Climbs the horizon’s bar.”

She says, “Then quick depart: 
Alas! you now must start;