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."