As a fisher-boy I faredTo the black rock in the sea, And, while false gifts I prepared.
Listen'd and sang merrily, Down descended the decoy,Soon a fish attack'd the bait;One exultant shout of joy,--
And the fish was captured straight.
Ah! on shore, and to the woodPast the cliffs, o'er stock and stone, One foot's traces I pursued,And the maiden was alone.
Lips were silent, eyes downcastAs a clasp-knife snaps the bait, With her snare she seized me fast,And the boy was captured straight.
Heav'n knows who's the happy swainThat she rambles with anew!
I must dare the sea again,Spite of wind and weather too.
When the great and little fishWail and flounder in my net, Straight returns my eager wishIn her arms to revel yet!
1815.
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