Ever let the Fancy roam, Pleasure never is at home: At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth, Like to bubbles when rain pelteth; Then let winged Fancy wander Through the thought still spread beyond her: Open wide the mind's cage-door, She'll dart forth, ...
She's all my fancy painted him(I make no idle boast);
If he or you had lost a limb,
Which would have suffered most
He said that you had been to her,
Oh some are fond of red wine, and some are fond of white,
And some are all for dancing by the pale moonlight:
But rum alone’s the tipple, and the heart’s delight Of the old bold mate of Henry Morgan
Oh some are fond of Spanish wine,...
Good-bye my Fancy
Farewell dear mate, dear love
I'm going away,
I know not where,
Thee,
Queen of Shadows
— shall I still invoke, Still love the scenes thy sportive pencil drew,
When on mine eyes the early radiance broke Which shew'd the beauteous rather than the true