THE FORSAKEN.
Reading edition
From the Spanish.
Up I rose, O mother, early On the blest Saint Juan’s morn; By the sea I saw a damsel, Saw a damsel all forlorn.
Lonely there she wash’d her garments And upon a rose-tree hung; Whilst the garments there were drying She a plaintiff ditty sung.
“O my love, my fickle lover— Where to find him shall I stray?” Up and down the strand she hurried Singing, singing this sad lay.
In her hand a comb she carried, All of gold, to comb her hair; “Tell me, tell me, gentle sailor— Heaven take thee ’neath it’s care— Hast thou seen my fickle lover, Hast thou seen him any where?”