The Algiers Slave's Releasement ; or, the Unchangeable Boat-swain

Of a constant young seaman a story I'le tell, '
That I hope all true lovers will please very well;
All his cry was still, ' Though I continue a slave,
Yet the want of my dear is far worse than a grave.

'All the tedious long night in close prison I lye,
But methinks I behold my dear love lying by;
In the midst of my pains this doth still give me ease :
That is pleasant to me, which some call a disease.

'Sometimes to the gallies I'm forced to go,
Though amongst all my fellows like a slave I do row;
And when I am spent with this labour and pain
The thoughts of my love doth revive me again.

'And when with strappadoes sometimes I do meet,
I find little pain, if I think on my sweet;
Thus 'twixt pleasure and pain my time I do spend,
Yet vow to be constant unto my life's end.

'No torture nor pain shall make me forsake
Nor flye from my reason for my Betty's sake;
I do slight all the torments bestow'd by the Turk
When I think on my dear, and in gallies do work.

'But [tho'] a renegado to make me they strive,
I'le never consent to 't whilst I am alive,
But will a couragious true Protestant be:
Fie be true to my faith and be constant to thee.

'Ah, Betty, when billows do rage and do roar
For want of thy sight I am troubled sore :
Whilst other are troubled with terror and fear,
Yet I am cheer'd up with the thought of my dear.

'No prison is like to the want of thy sight,
Which locks up my bliss, for thou art my delight:
Though distant I am, therefore only opprest, .
Yet still my dear Betty doth lodge in my breast.

'In the midst of my sorrows, whilst others do mourn,
'Tis the want of my love that doth make me forlorn ;
Yet [I] would not enjoy thee in this cursed place,
Though for want of thy love my tears trickle apace.

'But be of good cheer, for every one knows
'Tis an ill wind indeed that no comfort blows ;
And again I do hope thee in England to see,
Then who'l be so happy as Betty and me ?

'And now, thorough Providence, I am returned :
By shipwrack I 'scap'd, for our ship it was burn'd;
No torment like mine was when I was a slave,
For the want of my Betty was worse than a grave.'