Ballad

I wake and weep, when wintry winds Are howling loud upon the lea, And louder blasts my fancy finds For William, on the foaming sea; But, calming soon the pictured storm, Sweet hopes into my bosom creep, And tell me, summer breezes warm Shall waft him safely o’er the deep.

Four years, on India’s sultry coast, Has war’s rude voice my love detain’d; While here, to every pleasure lost, His Mary’s languid form remain’d; And o’er the steep rock still to lean, Still eager watch each gliding sail, That languid form is duly seen, At ruddy morn, and evening pale.

But ah! no handkerchief I mark Stream from the deck in crimson dye! Dear signal! wanting thee, the bark Is hail’d by many a mournful sigh. Its shouts discordant seem to me, That echo from the stony pier, Since William’s face I cannot see, Since William’s voice I cannot hear.