STANZASFOR MUSIC.
Alas! my love, we're doom'd to sever;
The fates decree it so:
Yet I will think of thee for ever,
For thee my tears will flow.
The fates decree it so:
Yet I will think of thee for ever,
For thee my tears will flow.
And when thou'rt sailing on the ocean,
If the rude storm should rise,
For thee I'll bend in meek devotionIf the rude storm should rise,
To Him who rules the skies.
And when the wind is softly blowing,
And smoothly rolls the sea,
My tears will constantly be flowing,
Because thou'rt far from me.
And smoothly rolls the sea,
My tears will constantly be flowing,
Because thou'rt far from me.
Then go no more in search of treasure
Upon the treach'rous sea,
For India's wealth would yield no pleasure,
Were I depriv'd of thee.
Upon the treach'rous sea,
For India's wealth would yield no pleasure,
Were I depriv'd of thee.