So while the waters rise, the children tread On the broad estuary's sandy bed; But soon the channel fills, from side to side Comes danger rolling with the deep'ning tide; Yet none who saw the rapid current flow Could the first instant of that danger know. The lovers waited till the time should come When they together could possess a home: In either house were men and maids unwed, Hopes to be soothed, and tempers to be led. Then Allen's mother of his favourite maid Spoke from the feelings of a mind afraid: "Dress and amusements were her sole employ," She said--"entangling her deluded boy;" And yet, in truth, a mother's jealous love Had much imagined and could little prove; Judith had beauty--and if vain, was kind, Discreet and mild, and had a serious mind. Dull was their prospect.--When the lovers met, They said, "We must not--dare not venture yet." "Oh! could I labour for thee," Allen cried, "Why should our friends be thus dissatisfied; On my own arm I could depend, but they Still urge obedience--must I yet obey?" Poor Judith felt the grief, but grieving begg'd delay. At length a prospect came that seem'd to smile, And faintly woo them, from a Western Isle; A kinsman there a widow's hand had gain'd, "Was old, was rich, and childless yet remain'd; Would some young Booth to his affairs attend, And wait awhile, he might expect a friend." The elder brothers, who were not in love, Fear'd the false seas, unwilling to remove; But the young Allen, an enamour'd boy, Eager an independence to enjoy, Would through all perils seek it,--by the sea, - Through labour, danger, pain, or slavery. The faithful Judith his design approved, For both were sanguine, they were young, and loved. The mother's slow consent was then obtain'd; The time arrived, to part alone remain'd: All things prepared, on the expected day Was seen the vessel anchor'd in the bay. From her would seamen in the evening come, To take th' adventurous Allen from his home; With his own friends the final day he pass'd, And every painful hour, except the last. The grieving father urged the cheerful glass, To make the moments with less sorrow pass; Intent the mother look'd upon her son, And wish'd th' assent withdrawn, the deed undone; The younger sister, as he took his way, Hung on his coat, and begg'd for more delay: But his own Judith call'd him to the shore, Whom he must meet, for they might meet no more; - And there he found her--faithful, mournful, true, Weeping, and waiting for a last adieu! The ebbing tide had left the sand, and there Moved with slow steps the melancholy pair: Sweet were the painful moments--but, how sweet, And without pain, when they again should meet! Now either spoke as hope and fear impress'd Each their alternate triumph in the breast. Distance alarm'd the maid--she cried, "'Tis far!" And danger too--"it is a time of war: Then in those countries are diseases strange, And women gay, and men are prone to change: What then may happen in a year, when things