the well-known voice he heard,
He sigh'd and cast his eyes below;
The cord flies swiftly through his glowing hands,
And quick as lightning on the deck he stands.

'O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,
My vows shall always true remain,
Let me kiss off that falling tear,--
We only part to meet again;
Change as ye list, ye winds, my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.

Believe not what the landsmen say,
Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind;
They tell thee sailors, when away,
In every port a mistress find;
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell you so,
For thou art present wheresoe'er I go.'

The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosom spread;
No longer she must stay on board,
They kiss'd, she sigh'd, he hung his head:
Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land,
'Adieu!' she cried, and wav'd her lily hand.

_ANONYMOUS_

ANNIE LAURIE

MAXWELLTON braes are bonnie,
Where early fa's the dew,
And 'twas there that Annie Laurie
Gied me her promise true;
Gied me her promise true,
Which ne'er forgot shall be,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie,
I'd lay me doon and dee.

Her brow is like the snaw-flake,
Her neck is like the swan,
Her face it is the fairest
That e'er the sun shone on;
That e'er the sun shone on,
And dark blue is her e'e;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me doon and dee.

Like dew on the gowan lying,
Is the fa' of her fairy feet;
And like winds in summer sighing,
Her voice is low and sweet;
Her voice is low and sweet,
And she's a' the world to me;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me doon and dee.

JAMES THOMSON

RULE BRITANNIA

WHEN Britain first at Heaven's command
Arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter of her land,
And guardian angels sang the strain:

Rule Britannia! Britannia rules the waves!
Britons never shall be slaves!

The nations not so blest as thee
Must in their turn to tyrants fall,
Whilst thou shalt flourish great and free--
The dread and envy of them all!

Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful from each foreign stroke;
As the last blast which tears the skies
Serves but to root thy native oak.

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame;
All their attempts to bend thee down
Will but arouse thy generous flame,
And work their woe and thy renown.

To thee belongs the rural reign;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine;
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles th