Poems on various subjects By R. Anderson |
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II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. | SONG XVIII. FAIR SALLY. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
XLI. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
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![]() | Poems on various subjects | ![]() |
SONG XVIII. FAIR SALLY.
When Honour bade her sons bear arms,
And boldly meet their country's foe,
I saw in vain fair Sally's charms,
Adown whose cheeks the tears did flow;
And wearied with the rural life,
The russet hill and flowery dale,
Won by the drum and sprightly fife,
Elate I left my native vale.
And boldly meet their country's foe,
I saw in vain fair Sally's charms,
Adown whose cheeks the tears did flow;
And wearied with the rural life,
The russet hill and flowery dale,
Won by the drum and sprightly fife,
Elate I left my native vale.
172
The toils of war long time I brav'd,
Of danger still I bore a share,
And many a foe this arm hath sav'd,
For man may conquer, yet should spare.
Such scenes of carnage pall'd my mind;
Soon Britain's coast I long'd to hail,
And thought of joys I left behind,
When Fancy sought my native vale.
Of danger still I bore a share,
And many a foe this arm hath sav'd,
For man may conquer, yet should spare.
Such scenes of carnage pall'd my mind;
Soon Britain's coast I long'd to hail,
And thought of joys I left behind,
When Fancy sought my native vale.
Oft have I pray'd that war would cease,
When bleeding brethren clad the plain,
And soon the tidings of sweet Peace
Brought toil-worn warriors home again.
Discharg'd, dread war a while forgot,
Fair Sally soon I hop'd to hail,
And onward trudg'd towards her cot,
O'erjoy'd to view my native vale.
When bleeding brethren clad the plain,
And soon the tidings of sweet Peace
Brought toil-worn warriors home again.
Discharg'd, dread war a while forgot,
Fair Sally soon I hop'd to hail,
And onward trudg'd towards her cot,
O'erjoy'd to view my native vale.
I pass'd the oak, beneath whose shade,
I of fair Sally took my leave;
I pass'd the grove where, with the maid,
The happy hours were spent at eve;
I pass'd the village church—but wept,
And trembling read the plain-told tale,
That underneath fair Sally slept,
For one who left his native vale.
I of fair Sally took my leave;
173
The happy hours were spent at eve;
I pass'd the village church—but wept,
And trembling read the plain-told tale,
That underneath fair Sally slept,
For one who left his native vale.
![]() | Poems on various subjects | ![]() |