Anna, or, the Adieu

When the sails catch the breeze, and the anchor is weigh'd, To bear me from Anna, my beautiful maid, The top-mast ascending, I look for my dear, And sigh that her features imperfect appear, Till aided by fancy her charms I still trace, And for me see the tears trickle down her pale face, While her handkerchief waving solicits my view, And I hear her sweet lips sadly sigh out adieu.

The pleasing delusion not long can prevail, Higher rise the proud waves, and more brisk blows the gale; The gale that regards not the sighs that it bears; The proud waves still unmov'd, tho' augmented by tears. Ah! will ye not one single moment delay, Oh! think from what rapture you bear me away! Then my eyes strain in vain my dear Anna to view, And a tear drops from each, as I sigh out adieu.

Yet some comfort it gives to my agoniz'd mind, That I still see the land where I left her behind; The land that gave birth to my charmer and me, Tho' less'ning, my eyes beem with pleasure to see; 'Tis the casket that holds all that's dear to my heart, 'Tis the haven where yet we shall meet ne'er to part, If the fates are propitious to lovers so true; But if not, dearest Anna! a long, long adieu!