Ill teach my boy the sweetest things;

Alas! alas! that look so wild,

Draw from my heart the pain away.

Without me my sweet babe would die.

But still be true till I am dead,

But, safe as in a cradle, here

Oh joy for me that sight to see!

A ?re was once within my brain;

Well ?nd thy father in the wood.

It loosens something at my chest;

I know the earth-nuts ?t for food;

For he was here, and only he.

And underneath the spreading tree

Then do not fear, my boy! for thee

Tis thine, sweet baby, there to rest:

And I will always be thy guide,九*九*藏*書

Now laugh and be gay, to the woods away!

I know the poisons of the shade,

Then I must be for ever sad.

Through hollow snows and rivers wide.

But then there came a sight of joy;

Tis well for me; thou canst not see

Then, pretty dear, be not afraid;

The high crag cannot work me harm,

He saves for me my precious soul;

The babe I carry on my arm,

She has a baby on her arm,

We two will live in honesty.

It came at once to do me good;

Thy lips I feel them, baby! they

Dread not their taunts, my little life!

Oh! smile on me, my little lamb!

I pray thee have no 九*九*藏*書fear of me,

If his sweet boy he could forsake,

My little boy of ?esh and blood;

And it was in the English tongue.

For him thats gone and far away.

Or else she were alone;

Ive sought thy father far and wide.

Thy father cares not for my breast,

And on the green-wood stone,

If thou art mad, my pretty lad,

To thee I know too much I owe;

My beauty, little child, is ?own;

From him no harm my babe can take,

I feel thy little ?ngers pressd.

As merry as the birds in spring.

Tis all thine own! and if its hue

The breeze I see is in the tree;

Then, lovely baby, do not fear!

九*九*藏*書And she came far from over the main.

Full many a sad and doleful thing:

My little babe! thy lips are still,

And I am happy when I sing

Bold as a lion I will be;

And underneath the hay-stack warm,

And ?endish faces one, two, three,

It comes to cool my babe and me.

About that tight and deadly band

The leaves that make the softest bed:

The sun has burnt her coal-black hair,

What wicked looks are those I see?

For I thy own dear mother am.

But nay, my heart is far too glad;

Her eyes are wild, her head is bare,

Thou art thy mothers only joy;

I cannot work thee any woe.九-九-藏-書

"Sweet babe! they say that I am mad,

With me he never would have stayd:

My love for thee has well been tried:

It never, never came from me:

My lovely baby! thou shalt be,

Oh! press me with thy little hand;

Nor leaping torrents when they howl;

My pretty thing! then thou shalt sing,

But he, poor man! is wretched made,

Her eye-brows have a rusty stain,

But thou wilt live with me in love,

She talked and sung the woods among;

Oh! love me, love me, little boy!

Tis fair enough for thee, my dove!

And what if my poor cheek be brown?

I waked, and saw my little boy,

It cools m九-九-藏-書y blood; it cools my brain;

And there, my babe; well live for aye.

And in my head a dull, dull pain;

When oer the sea-rocks edge we go;

And do not dread the waves below,

And if from me thou wilt not go,

Hung at my breasts, and pulled at me.

How pale and wan it else would be.

And every day we two will pray

Suck, little babe, oh suck again!

Then happy lie, for blest am I;

And thou hast almost suckd thy ?ll.

Ill teach him how the owlet sings.

Be changed, that was so fair to view,

--Where art thou gone my own dear child?

Ill build an Indian bower; I know

I am thy fathers wedded wife;