Twelve months were gone and over,
And nine long tedious days.
Why did’st thou, vent’rous lover,
Why did’st thou trust the seas?
Cease, cease, thou cruel ocean
And let my lover rest;
Ah! what’s thy troubled motion
To that within my breast?

The merchant, robbed of pleasure,
Sees tempests in despair,
But what’s the loss of treasure
To losing of my dear?
Should you some coast be laid on
Where gold and diamonds grow,
You’d find a richer maiden
But none that loves you so.

How can they say that Nature
Has nothing made in vain?
Why then beneath the water
Should hideous rocks remain?
No eyes the rocks discover
That lurk beneath the deep,
To wreck the wand’ring lover
And leave the maid to weep.

All melancholy lying
Thus wailed she for her dear,
Repaid each blast with sighing,
Each billow with a tear,
When o’er the white wave stooping
His floating corpse she spied,
Then like a lily drooping
She bowed her head and died.

John Gay (1685-1732)

Twelve months were gone and over,
And nine long tedious days,
Why didst thou vent’rous lover?
Why didst thou trust the seas?
Cease, cease then cruel ocean,
And let my lover rest;
Ah! what’s thy troubled motion
To that within my breast?

The merchant, robb’d of treasure,
Views tempests in despair;
But what’s the loss of treasure
To the losing of my dear?
Should you some coast be laid on
Where gold and diamonds grow,
You’d find a richer maiden,
But none that loves you so.

How can they say that nature
Has nothing made in vain?
Why then beneath the water
Do hideous rocks remain?
No eyes those rocks discover,
That lurk beneath the deep;
To wreck the wand’ring lover,
And leave the maid to weep.

All melancholy lying,
Thus wail’d she for her dear;
Repaid each blast with sighing,
Each billow with a tear:
When o’er the white waves stooping,
His floating corps she spy’d;
Then, like a lilly drooping,
She bow’d her head and dy’d.

John Gay (1685-1732)