Song.
18th Century Helen Maria Williams EnglishSONG.
NO riches from his scanty store My lover could impart; He gave a boon I valued more — He gave me all his heart!
His soul sincere, his gen'rous worth, Might well this bosom move; And when I ask'd for bliss on earth, I only meant his love.
But now for me, in search of gain, From shore to shore he flies; — Why wander riches to obtain, When love is all I prize?
The frugal meal, the lowly cot, When blest, my love, with thee, — That simple fare, that humble lot, Were more than wealth to me.
While he the dang'rous Ocean braves, My tears but vainly flow; Is pity in the faithless waves, To which I pour my woe?
The night is dark, the waters deep, Yet soft the billows roll; Alas! at every breeze I weep — The storm is in my soul.