The Faithful Mariner. The Constant Seaman leaves the Land, To Sail upon the Main, Ingaging for to wed his Dear When he Returns again. Tune of, Philander .
|
F Arewel my dearest Dear,
|
for thee and I must part,
|
And I do greatly fear
|
that it will break my heart:
|
Yet hope I shall return again,
|
Old England for to see:
|
Nothing but Death, or want of breath
|
shall part my Love and me.
|
Alas! my Love, quoth she,
|
wilt thou be so unkind,
|
To go away from me,
|
and leave me here behind.
|
Both night and day I shall complain
|
(my Love) for want of thee,
|
And still relate how cruel Fate
|
did part my love and me.
|
When stormy winds do blow,
|
and billows they do rore,
|
Our true-Loves then we know
|
are troubled on the shore,
|
For fear we should be cast away,
|
or foundred in the Sea,
|
While we do sing, no earthly thing
|
shall part my love and me.
|
Oh Fortune too unkind!
|
why dost thou use me so,
|
To cause my love so kind
|
away from me to go:
|
Let not strange Countries change thy mind,
|
but ever constant be,
|
Nothing shall part but deaths cold dart
|
my faithful love and me.
|
Then Neptune , I implore
|
assistance from thy hand,
|
Now I must leave the shore,
|
keep me from Rocks and Sands:
|
That I may happily escape
|
the dangers of the Sea,
|
And let not Death stop my poor breath,
|
and part my etc.
|
Can Maidens tears prevail,
|
i'le part with them good store,
|
When thou art under sail
|
i'le mourn upon the shore:
|
All kind of comforts i'le refuse,
|
till thee again I see,
|
And nothing shall to us befall
|
to part my etc.
|
Nothing shall me affright
|
when I from thee am gone,
|
'Twill be my hearts delight,
|
my love to think upon:
|
I'le write thy name upon the Mast,
|
and painted thou shalt be
|
In my poor heart, that none may part
|
my faithful love and me.
|
I'le do the like on shore,
|
for wheresoe're I be,
|
The Element shall rore,
|
of my fidelity:
|
I'le sing thy praise where e're I go,
|
thou shalt applauded be,
|
And nought but Death shall stop my breath
|
to part my love and me.
|
My Voyage is but short,
|
and I shall soon return,
|
I shall be joyful for't,
|
least thou my Dear shouldst mourn:
|
Then Hymens Rites we will perform
|
united will we be:
|
And he at last, shall tye us fast,
|
and joyn my love and me.
|
That hour I long to see,
|
O 'twould my joys encrease,
|
Were I but match'd to thee,
|
my soul would be at peace:
|
Till then I ne'r shall be at rest,
|
or shall contented be,
|
Make no delay, Hymen , I say,
|
to joyn my love and me.
|
|
|
|
|
|