To write back to the maid of your choice,—
If ’tis me then she’ll long your return.”
Singing on—said he “Oh! I’ll not fail,
If the heavens are kind to the ship,—
Safely wafting her on with the gale,—
And we reach the French port of Dieppe.”
“Ah then!—when you are there,” said sweet Anne,
“Will you send by the first coming post?”—
(With the same, a small pearl over-ran)—
And she sigh’d—“else I’ll think you are lost!”