Page:Bonaparte's farewell.pdf/5

 Every leaf was at rest and I heard not a sound,

But the Woodpecker tapping the hollow beech tree.

And here, in this lone little wood, I exclaim’d,

with a maid that’s delightful to soul and to eye;

Who would blush when I prais’d her, would weep if I blam’d,

how contented I’d live, and how calm could I die.

Every leaf was at rest, &c.

By the shade of yon sumach, whose red berries dip

in the gush of the fountain, how sweet to recline,

And to know that I sigh’d upon innocent lips,

which never were sigh’d on by any but mine.

Every leaf was at rest, &c.





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 was lost.

His strength restor’d, Tom hied with speed,

true to his love as e’er was man;