BRYAN AND PEREENE. A WEST INDIAN BALLAD; James Grainger Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T124631 1073 K099398.000 Mendez, Moses. A collection of the most esteemed pieces of poetry: that have appeared for several years. With variety of originals, by the late Moses Mendez, Esq; and other contributors to Dodsley's collection. To which this is intended as a supplement. London printed for Richardson and Urquhart 1767 pp. 144-147. [8],320p. ; 8⁰.

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BRYAN AND PEREENE . A WEST INDIAN BALLAD ; Founded on a real Fact , that happened a few Years ago in the Island of ST. CHRISTOPHER . THE north-east wind did briskly blow , The ship was safely moor'd , Young Bryan thought the boat's crew slow , And so leapt over-board . Pereene , the pride of Indian dames , His heart long held in thrall , And whoso his impatience blames , I wot , ne'er lov'd at all . A long , long year , one month and day , He dwelt on English land , Nor once in thought would ever stray , Though ladies sought his hand . For Bryan he was tall and strong , Right blythsome roll'd his een , Sweet was his voice whene'er he sung , He scant had twenty seen . But who the countless charms can draw , That grac'd his mistress true ; Such charms the old world never saw , Nor oft I ween the new . Her raven hair plays round her neck , Like tendrils of the vine ; Her cheeks red dewy rose buds deck , Her eyes like diamonds shine . Soon as his well known ship she spied , She cast her weeds away , And to the palmy shore she hied , All in her best array . In sea-green silk so neatly clad , She there impatient stood ; The crew with wonder saw the lad Repel the foaming flood . Her hands a handkerchief display'd , Which he at parting gave ; Well pleas'd the token he survey'd , And manlier beat the wave . Her fair companions one and all , Rejoicing crowd the strand ; For now her lover swam in call , And almost touch'd the land . Then through the white surf did she haste , To clasp her lovely swain ; When , ah ! a shark bit through his waist : His heart's blood dy'd the main ! He shriek'd ! his half sprang from the wave , Streaming with purple gore , And soon it found a living grave , And , ah ! was seen no more . Now haste , now haste , ye maids , I pray , Fetch water from the spring : She falls , she falls , she dyes away , And soon her knell they ring . Now each May-morning round her tomb Ye fair , fresh flowrets strew , So may your lovers scape his doom , Her hapless fate scape you .