THE LOSS OF THE ROEBUCK. Susanna Blamire Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Blamire, Susanna, 1747-1794. The Poetical Works of Miss Susanna Blamire “The muse of Cumberland.” Now for the first time collected by Henry Lonsdale, M.D. with a preface, memoir, and notes by Patrick Maxwell, ... Edinburgh John Menzies, 61 Princes Street; R. Tyas, London; D. Robertson, Glasgow; and C. Thurnam, Carlisle. MDCCCXLII. 1842 pp. 249-250.

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THE LOSS OF THE ROEBUCK . HOW oft by the lamp of the pale waning moon Would Kitty steal out from the eye of the town ; On the beach as she stood , when the wild waves would roll , Her eye shed a torrent just fresh from the soul ; And , as o'er the ocean the billows would stray , Her sighs follow after , as moaning as they . I saw , as the ship to the harbour drew near , Hope redden her cheek — then it blanch'd with chill fear ; She wish'd to inquire of the whispering crew If they'd spoke with the Roebuck , or aught of her knew ; For long in conjecture her fate had been toss'd , Nor knew we for certain the Roebuck was lost . I pitied her feelings , and saw what she'd ask , For Innocence ever looks through a thin mask ; I stepp'd up to Jack Oakum — his sad head he shook , And cast on sweet Kitty a side-glancing look : " The Roebuck has founder'd — the crew are no more , — Nor again shall Jack Bowling be welcom'd on shore ! " Sweet Kitty , suspecting , laid hold of my arm : " O tell me , " she cried , " for my soul's in alarm ; Is she lost ? " — I said nothing ; whilst Jack gave a sigh , Then down dropp'd the curtain that hung o'er her eye ; Fleeting life for a moment seem'd willing to stay ; Just flutter'd , and then fled for ever away . So droops the pale lily surcharg'd with a shower , — Sunk down as with sorrow so dies the sweet flower ; No sunbeam returning , no spring ever gay , Can give back the soft breath once wafted away ; The eye-star once set never rises again , Nor pilots one vessel more over the main .