Banks of Brandywine
H. J. Wehman, Song Publisher, 50 Chatham St., N. Y.
Banks of Brandywine
One morning very early, in the pleasant month of May,
As I walked forth to take the air, all nature being gay,
The moon had not yet veiled her face, but through the trees did shine,
As I wandered for amusement on the banks of Brandywine.
By many rough and craggy rocks, and bushes of small growth,
By many lofty, ancient trees their leaves were putting forth,
I wandered up along those banks, where murmuring streams do join,
Where pleasant music caught my ear on the banks of Brandywine.
At such an early hour I was surprised to see
A lovely maid, with downcast eye, upon those banks so gay;
I modestly saluted her—she knew not my design—
And requested her sweet company on the banks of Brandywine.
She said: “Young man, be civil, my company forsake,
For in my real opinion, I think you are a rake;
My love’s a valiant sailor, he’s gone to the main,
While comfortless I wander on the banks of Brandywine.”
“My dear, why do you thus give up to melancholy cries!
I pray leave off your weeping, and dry those lovely eyes,
For sailors in each port, my dear, they do a mistress find;
He will leave you still to wander on the banks of Brandywine.”
“Oh! leave me, sir, do leave me, why do you me torment?
My Henry won’t deceive me, therefore I am content;
Why do you thus torment me, and cruelly combine,
To fill my wind with horror, on the banks of Brandywine?”
“I wish not to afflict your mind; but rather for to ease
Such dreadful apprehensions that soon your mind will seize;
Your love, my dear, in wedlock bands another one has joined—”
She swooned into my arms on the banks of Brandywine.
The lofty hills and craggy rocks re-echoed back her strains,
The pleasant groves and rural shades were witness to her pains.
“How often has he promised me in Hymen’s chains to join?
Now I’m a maid forsaken on the banks of Brandywine.”
“Oh! no, my dear, that ne’er shall be: behold your Henry now!
I’ll clasp you to my bosom, love—I’ve not forgot my vow;
It’s now I know you’re true, my dear; in Hymen’s chains we’ll join,
And hail the happy morn we met on the banks of Brandywine!”