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BALLAD.
I.
My ship is weighing from the land,
My prow points o'er the sea,
Yet here I linger on the strand,
To bid farewell to thee.
II.
Farewell thou lovely islander;
I only ask for mine,
A boon a princess might confer,
A single look of thine.
III.
I do not ask for sigh or smile,
A smile I could not brook;
A sigh I should not leave thine isle,
Then give me but a look.
IV.
Oh, lovely are your English dames,
Although not fair like thee;
The wine shall circle to their names,
In our far Sicily.
