Untitled Song
• Written by user16684534
Set your heart at rest
The Fairyland buys not the child of me.
His mother was a votress of my order,
And in the spice'd Indian air by night
Full often hath she gossiped by my side
And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands,
Marking th' embarke'd traders on the flood,
When we have laughed to see the sails conceive
And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind:
Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait,
Following her womb then rich with my young squire,
Would imitate and sail upon the land
To fetch me trifles and return again
As from a voyage rich with mechandise
But she being mortal of that boy did die
And for her sake do I rear up her boy
And for her sake I will not part with hi
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About the Artist
user16684534
Member since October 12 2015