Page:Sea songster.pdf/3

 SONGS

THE ROSE OF ALLANDALE.

morn was fair, the skies were clear,
 * No breath came o'er the sea,

When Mary left her Highland cot,
 * And wander'd forth with me.

Tho' flowers deck'd the mountain side,
 * And fragrance fill'd the vale;—

By far the sweetest flower there,
 * Was the Rose of Allandale.

Where'er I wander'd east or west;
 * Though fate began to low'r—

A solace still was she to me,
 * In sorrow's lonely hour.

When tempests lash'd our gallant bark,
 * And rent her shiv'ring sail—

One maiden form withstood the storm,
 * 'Twas the Rose of Allandale.

And when my fever'd lips were parch'd,
 * On Afric's burning sand,

She whisper'd hopes of happiness,
 * And tales of distant land.

My life had been a wilderness,
 * Unbliss'd by fortune's gale—

Had fate not link'd my lot to hers,
 * The Rose of Allandale.