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On them gleam'd the moon's wan lustre,
When the shade of Hosier brave
Rising from their watery grave:
Where the Burford rear'd her sail,
And in groans did Vernon hail-
I am Hosier's injured ghost,
At this place where I was lost;
You now triumph free from fears, When you think on our undoing,
You will mix your joy with tears. See these mournful spectres sweeping
Ghastly o'er this hated wave, Whose wan cheeks are stain'd with weeping;
These were English captains brave: Mark those numbers pale and horrid,
Those were once my sailors bold, Lo, each hangs his drooping forehead,
While his dismal tale is told.
• I, by twenty sail attended,
Did this Spanish town affright; Nothing then its wealth defended
But my orders not to fight:
I had cast them with disdain,
To have quell’d the pride of Spain;
- For resistance I could fear none,
But with twenty ships had done What thou, brave and happy Vernon,
Hast achieved with six alone. Then the Bastimentos never
Had our foul dishonour seen, Nor the sea the sad receiver
Of this gallant train had been. Thus, like thee, proud Spain dismaying,
And her galleons leading home,
I had met a traitor's doom,
He has play'd an English part,
Of a grieved and broken heart. Unrepining at thy glory,
Thy successful arms we hail; But remember our sad story,
And let Hosier's wrongs prevail : Sent in this foul clime to languish,
Think what thousands fell in vain, Wasted with disease and anguish,
Not in glorious battle slain. · Hence with all my train attending,
From their oozy tombs below, Through the hoary foam ascending,
Here I feed my constant woe; Here, the Bastimentos viewing,
We recall our shameful doom, An our plaintive cries renewing,
Wander through the midnight gloom.
• O'er these waves for ever mourning
Shall we roam deprived of rest, If to Britain's shores returning
You neglect my just request; After this proud foe subduing,
When your patriot friends you see, Think on vengeance for my ruin,
And for England shamed in me.'
Ar break of day, with frightful dreams
Lenora struggled sore:
Or dost thou love no more?
The Paynim foes to quell;
An he were sick or well.
His fellow soldyers come;
They seeke their long’d-for home.
Was full of old and young, To gaze at the rejoicing band,
To hail with gladsome toung. « Thank God!' their wives and children saide,
« Welcome! the brides did saye: But greete or kiss Lenora gave To none upon that daye.
* From Burger.
She askte of all the passing trine
For him she wisht to see:
Could tell if lived hee.
She tore her raven haire,
In furious despaire.
And clasped in her arme,
God shield thy life from harm! " () mother, mother! William's gone!
What's all besyde to me? There is no mercye, sure, above !
All, all were spared but hee!' * Kneel downe, thy paternoster saye,
"Twill calm thy troubled spright: The Lord is wyse, the Lord is good;
What hee hath done is right.' « () mother, mother! say not so;
Most cruel is my fate: I prayde, and prayde; but watte avayld ?
'Tis now, alas! too late.' • Our Heavenly Father, if we praye,
Will help a suffering childe : Go take the holy sacrament;
So shall thy grief grow milde.' 0, mother, what I feel within
No sacrament can staye ;
To bear the sight of daye.'
May be, among the heathen folk
Thy Willian false doth prove, And puts away his faith and troth,
And takes another love.
Thy moans are all in vain :
His falsehode brings him paine.' « () mother, mother! gone is gone;
My hope is all forlorne ;
0, had I ne'er been born!
In grislie darkness die:
For ever let me lie.'
My poor unhappy childe;
Her anguish makes her wilde. • My girl, forget thine earthly woe,
And think on God and bliss ; For so, at least, shall not thy soule
Its heavenly bridegroom miss.' • O mother, mother! what is blisse,
And what the fiendis' celle? With him, 'tis heaven any where,
Without my William, helle.
In endless darkness die:
Without him scorne the skye.'