Thy father cares not for my breast, 'Tis thine, sweet baby, there to rest: 'Tis all thine own! and if its hue Be changed, that was so fair to view, 'Tis fair enough for thee, my dove! My beauty, little child, is flown; But thou will live with me in love, And what if my poor cheek be brown? 'Tis well for me, thou canst not see How pale and wan it else would be. Dread not their taunts, my little life! I am thy father's wedded wife; And underneath the spreading tree We two will live in honesty. If his sweet boy he could forsake, With me he never would have stay'd: From him no harm my babe can take, But he, poor man! is wretched made, And every day we two will pray For him that's gone and far away. I'll teach my boy the sweetest things; I'll teach him how the owlet sings. My little babe! thy lips are still, And thou hast almost suck'd thy fill. --Where art thou gone my own dear child? What wicked looks are those I see? Alas! alas! that look so wild, It never, never came from me: If thou art mad, my pretty lad, Then I must be for ever sad. Oh! smile on me, my little lamb! For I thy own dear mother am. My love for thee has well been tried: I've sought thy father far and wide. I know the poisons of the shade, I know the earth-nuts fit for food; Then, pretty dear, be not afraid; We'll find thy father in the wood. Now laugh and be gay, to the woods away! And there, my babe; we'll live for aye. THE ANCIENT MARINER, A POET'S REVERIE. _ARGUMENT_. How a Ship, having first sailed to the Equator, was driven by Storms, to the cold Country towards the South Pole; how the Ancient Mariner cruelly, and in contempt of the laws of hospitality, killed a Sea-bird; and how he was followed by many and strange Judgements; and in what manner he came back to his own Country. _The ANCIENT MARINER_. _A POET'S REVERIE_. I. It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three: "By thy long grey beard and thy glittering eye Now wherefore stoppest me?" "The Bridegroom's doors are open'd wide And I am next of kin; The Guests are met, the Feast is set,-- May'st hear the merry din." But still he holds the wedding guest-- "There was a Ship, quoth he--" "Nay, if thou'st got a laughsome tale, Mariner! come with me." He holds him with his skinny hand, Quoth he, there was a Ship-- "Now get thee hence, thou grey-beard Loon Or my Staff shall make thee skip." He holds him with his glittering eye-- The wedding guest stood still And listens like a three year's child; The Mariner hath his will. The wedding-guest sate on a stone, He cannot chuse but hear: And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner. The Ship was cheer'd, the Harbour clear'd-- Merrily did we drop Below the Kirk, below the Hill, Below the Light-house top.