Page:Downfall of Paris, and Bonaparte dethron'd.pdf/8

(8) The Soldier call’d her jewel,

and ſwore he never would

Be unkind and cruel

to the girly he dearly lov’d.

The tears did trickle down

her lovely roſy cheek;

She was ſo fill’d with love,

a word ſhe ſcarce could ſpeak.

She ſaid, My dear, much rather

I would go along with you,

And leave my aged father,

and loving mother too:

For theſe can be no pleaſure,

neither for you or me,

But ſorrow without meaſure,

when you are gone to ſea.

Farewell, my dearell Nancy,

my joy and heart’s delight,

For I am going to the Indies,

my country’s foes to fight.

o o

Falkirk, Printed by T. Johnston,

1814