A Sea Song.

Old Albion sat on a crag of late.
And sang out - "Ahoy! ahoy!
Long, life to the captain, good luck to the mate.
And this to my sailor boy!
    Come over, come home,
    Through the salt sea foam,
    My sailor, my sailor boy.

"Here's a crown to be given away, I ween,
A crown for my sailor's head,
And all for the worth of a widowed queen,
And the love of the noble dead;
    And the fear and fame
    Of the island's name
Where my boy was born and bred.

"Content thee, content thee, let it alone,
Thou marked for a choice so rare;
Though treaties be treaties, never a throne
Was proffered for cause as fair.
    Yet come to me home,
    Through the salt sea foam,
    For the Greek must ask elsewhere.

"'Tis a pity, my sailor, but who can tell?
Many lands they look to me;
One of these might be wanting a Prince as well,
But that's as hereafter may be."
    She raised her white head
    And laughed; and she said
    "That's as hereafter may be."