WILLIAM and MARY

All dripping wet, in wintry night, Young William fears no ill: He braves the fury of the fight, And serves his country still. But when the thoughts of Mary dear, Oppress his tender mind, In silence drops the pitying tear, For her he left behind.

Without my fair, life soon would cloy, And grow an airy dream; Her charms my leisure hours employ, She's constantly my theme. Come wanton Cupids bear me home, My pangs of wo remove; And ne'er will I range or roam, From Mary whom I love.

The clashing din of war is o'er, Now peace and joy abound; On Columbia's shore he's safe once more, His head with laurels crown'd. Sweet melting airs from Mary flow, I'm free from all alarms; Let thunders roll or tempests blow, I'll clasp thee in my arms.