SIGH NOT FOR LOVE. Ar! sigh not for love, if you wish not to know Every torment that waits on us mortals below; If you fain would avoid all the dangers and snares, That attend human lot, and escape all its cares,

Sigh not for love! If cheerfulness smile on the glass as you sip, And you wish not to dash the sweet cup from your lip; If life's rill you'd see sparkle, with pleasure's gay beam, Nor destroy the bright bubbles that rise on the stream,

Sigh not for love! If you dread the sharp pangs that assail the fond heart, If you wish to shun sorrow, and mirth would impart; If you prize a calm life, with contentment and ease, If pleasure can charm you, and liberty please,

Sigh not for love!


Tom Starboard was a lover true,

As brave a tar as ever sail'd;
The duties ablest seamen do,

Tom did, and never yet had fail'd.
But wreck'd, as he was homeward bound,

Within a league of England's coast,
Love sav'd him, sure, from being drown’d,

For all the crew but Tom were lost.

His strength restor’d, Tom hied with speed,

True to his love as e'er was man;
Nought had he sav'd, nought did he need,

Rich he in thoughts of lovely Nan.

But scarce five miles poor Tom had gain'd,

When he was press'd; he heav'd a sigh,
And said, tho' cruel was his lot,

Ere flinch from duty he would die.
In fight Tom Starboard knew no fear,

Nay, when he'd lost an arm, resign’d,
Said, Love for Nan, his only dear,

Had sav'd his life, and fate was kind,
The war being ended, Tom return'd;

His lost liinb serv'd him for a joke ;
For still his manly bosom burn'd

With love his heart was heart of oak,

Ashore, in haste Tom nimbly ran

To cheer his love, his destin'd bride,
But false report had brought to Nan,

Six inonths before, that Tom had died.
With grief she daily pin'd away,

No remedy her life could save;
And Tom arriv'd the very day

They laid his Nancy in her grave.


From the white-blossom'd sloe my dear Chloe requested,

A sprig her fair breast to adorn:
No, by Heaven! I exclaim'd, may I perish,

If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn.
Then I show'd her a ring, and implor'd her to marry,

She blush'd like the dawning of morn;
Yes, I'll consent, she reply'd, if you'll promise,
That no jealous rival shall laugh me to scorn.

No, by Heaven! &c.


The sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, But glory remains when their lights fade away. Begin, ye tormentors, your threats are in vain, For the son of Alknomook shall never complain. Remember the arrows he shot from his bow; Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low. Why so slow? Do you wait till I shrink from the pain ? No! the son of Alknomook shall never complain. Remember the wood where in ambush we lay, And the scalps which we bore from your nation away: Now the flame rises fast; ye exult in my pain; But the son of Alknomook can never complain. I go to the land where my father is gone: His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son. Death comes as a friend, to relieve me from pain; And the son of Alknomook has scorn'd to complain!


I HAVE parks, I have grounds,

I have deer, I have hounds,
And for sporting a neat little cottage,

I have youth, I have wealth,

I have strength, I have health,
Yet I mope like a beau in his dotage.
What can I want ?—'Tis the girl of my heart,

To share those treasures with me,
For had I the wealth which the Indies impart,

No pleasure would it give me,
Without the lovely girl of my heart.
The sweet lovely girl of my heart.

My domain far extends,

And sustains social friends,
Who make music divinely enchanting;

We have balls, we have plays,

We have routs, public days,
And yet still I find something is wanting;
What should it be, but the girl of my heart,

To share those treasures with me!
For had I the wealth which the Indies impart,

No pleasure would it give me, Without the lovely girl of my heart.

Then give me the girl of my heart.


Said a smile to a tear,

On the cheek of my dear, And beam'd like the sun in spring weather,

In sooth, lovely tear,

It strange must appear,
That we should be both here together.

I come from the heart,

A soft balm to impart,
To yonder sad daughter of grief:

And I, said the smile,

That heart now beguile,
Since you gave the poor mourner relief.

Oh! then said the tear,

Sweet smile, it is clear,
We are twins, and soft pity our mother;

And how lovely that face,

Which together we grace,
For the woe and the bliss of another!

O'er barren hills and flowry dales,

O’er seas and distant shores,
With merry songs and jocund tales,

I've pass'd some pleasant hours;
Tho' wand'ring thus, I ne'er could find,

A girl like blythsome Sally;
Who picks, and culls, and cries aloud,

“Sweet lilies of the valley."
From whistling o'er the harrow'd turf,

From nestling of each tree,
I chose a soldier's life to wed,

So social, gay, and free:
Yet tho' the lasses love me well,

And often try to rally,
None pleases me like her who cries,

“ Sweet lilies of the valley."
I'm now return'd, of late discharg'd,

To see my native soil ;
From fighting in my country's cause,

To plough my country's soil:
I care not which, with either pleas'd,

So I possess my Sally,
That little merry nymph, who cries,

“Sweet lilies of the valley.”


He was fam’d for deeds of arms,
She a maid of envy'd charms;
Now to him her love imparts ;
One pure flame pervades both hearts:

« ForrigeFortsett »