Ballad—in the Quizes

The surge hoarsely murm'ring, young Fanny's grief mocking, The spray rudely dashing as salt as her tears, The ships in the offing, perpetually rocking, Too faithful a type of her hopes and her sears. 'Twas here, she cried out, that Jack's vows were so many, Here I bitterly wept, and I bitterly weep: Here heart-whole he swore to return to his Fanny, Near the trembling pine that nods over the deep.

Ah mock not my troubles ye pitiless breakers, Ye winds do not thus melt my heart with alarms, He is your pride and mine, in my grief then partakers, My sailor in safety waft back to my arms. They are deaf and ungrateful:—these woes are too many; Here here will I die, where I bitterly weep: Some true lover shall write the sad fate of poor Fanny, On the trembling pine that hangs over the deep.

Thus her heart sadly torn with its wild perturbation No friend but her sorrow, no hope but the grave; Led on by her grief to the last desperation, She ran to the cliff, and plung'd into the wave. A tar sav'd her life:—the fond tale shall please many; Who before wept her fate, now no longer shall weep: 'Twas her Jack, who, returning, bad sought out his Fanny, Near the trembling pine that hangs over the deep.