MARY's TRUE

Ye ling'ring winds that feebly blow, Why thus impede my way? Why moves the lazy ship so slow, When Mary mourns my stay? For when she bade me last adieu, She dropt a tear, and cried—be true.

When, as the midnight watch I keep, I view the sparkling sea; While round my shipmates careless sleep, I fondly think on thee; Remembrance paints the last adieu, When Mary wept, and cried—be true.

Tho' I be distant as the pole, Tho' furious tempests foam, Tho' billows mount, tho' thunders roll, No distance, time, or storm, The scene can banish from my view, When Mary wept, and cried—be true.

Oft up the shrouds my steps are borne, I take my airy stand; And oft my longing eyes I turn, And look in vain for land: Dejected I rejoin the crew, Yet fondly hope my Mary's true.

Come then, ye briskly pleasing gales, For once auspicious prove; Come swell the bosom of my sails, And waft me to my love: Moor'd in her arms to toils adieu, If still I find my Mary's true.