THE SAILOR's MEDLEY, SONG

You ask me sweet maid if my vows are sincere And call for some proof of my love; Still doubting my passion, I see but too clear— But pr'ythee, such fancies remove: Or if, as you say, lovers' vows are but breath, O set me some task to perform? And I'll brave it, tho' circled by peril or death, And smile as I buffet the storm: But this, this, believe me, can poorly express How truly, how dearly I love thee.

Nay, bid me some action or enterprize dare, That men, though the boldest, would shun; And whether by water, earth, fire, or air, I'll do it, if 'tis to be done. And if still a doubt in thy fancy remains, Injurious to love and to me, O fetter me more, if you can, with your chains! Nor ever—oh, no!—set me free. But this, this, believe me, can poorly express How truly, how dearly I love thee.

O let my fond vows some favour obtain, And pleasure succeed to my toil! Accept them, dear girl, and, to banish my pain, O crown the kind words with a smile! Ah, yes! for there's surely a pleasure divine In the smile of the girl we adore— A promise so fost, that no words can define: It says that your doubts are no more; That now you believe—what no words can express, How truly, how dearly I love thee.