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Cease, Cælia, cease ; restrain thy flowing tears,
Some warmer passion will dispel thy cares.
In man you 'll find a more substantial bliss,
More grateful toying, and a sweeter kiss.

He's dead. Oh tay him gently in the ground ! And may his tomb be by this verse renown's : “ Here Shock, the pride of all his kind, is laid ; ** Who fawn'd like man, but ne'er like man betray'd.”





the crew.

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 William, who high upon the yard

Rock'd with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,

He figh’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 thrill call he hear),

And drops at once into her nest.
The nobleft Captain in the British fleet
Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.


O Susan, 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 thec, failors, when away,

In every port a miftress find:
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
For thou art present wherefoe'er I go.
If to fair India's coast we fail,

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy breath is Africk's spicy gale,

Thy skin is ivory so white. Thus

every beauteous object that I view, Wakes in my foul some charm of lovely Sue. Though battle call me from thy arms,

Let not my pretty Susan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet, fate from harms,

William shall to his Dear return.
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Lelt precious tears thould 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 figh’d, he hung his head.
Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land :
Adicul she cries; and wav'd her lily hand.



WAS when the seas were roaring

With hollow blafts of wind;
A damsel lay deploring,

All on a rock reclin'd.
Wide o'er the foaming billows

She cast a wifful look ;
Her head was crownd with willows,

That trembled o'er the brook.
Twelve months are gone and orer,

And nine long tedious days. Why didst thou, venturous lover,

Why didst thou trust the seas ?
Cease, cease, thou cruel Ocean,

And let my lover rest:
Ah! what's thy troubled motion

To that within my breast?
The merchant, robb’d of pleasure,

Sees tempests in despair ;
But what's the loss of treasure,
To losing of my

dear: Should


some coast be laid on, Where gold and diamonds grow, You'd find a richer maiden,

But none that loves you so.


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How can they say that nature

Has nothing made in vain ; Why then beneath the water

Should hideous rocks remain ? No eyes

the rocks discover, That lurk beneath the deep, To wreck the wandering lover,

And leave the maid to weep. All melancholy lying,

Thus wail'd she for her dear ;
Repay'd each blast with fighing,

Each billow with a tear ;
When o'er the white wave stooping,

His floating corpse she spy'd ;
Then, like a lily drooping,

She bow'd her head, and dy'd.


A B A L L A D.

PHYLLIDA, that lov'd to dream

In the grove, or by the stream;
Sigh'd on velvet pillow.
What, alas ! should fill her head, ,
But a fountain, or a mead,

Water and a willow?
Love in cities never dwells,
He delights in rural cells

Which sweet woodbine covers.


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