| |
| AS near Porto Bello lying | |
| On the gently swelling flood, | |
| At midnight, with streamers flying, | |
| Our triumphant navy rode; | |
| There where Vernon sat all glorious | 5 |
| From the Spaniard’s late defeat, | |
| And his crews with shouts victorious, | |
| Drank success to England’s fleet: | |
| |
| On a sudden, shrilly sounding, | |
| Hideous yells and shrieks were heard; | 10 |
| Then each heart with fear confounding, | |
| A sad troop of ghosts appeared, | |
| All in dreary hammocks shrouded, | |
| Which for winding-sheets they wore, | |
| And with looks by sorrow clouded, | 15 |
| Frowning on that hostile shore. | |
| |
| On them gleamed the moon’s wan lustre, | |
| When the shade of Hosier brave | |
| His pale bands were seen to muster, | |
| Rising from their watery grave: | 20 |
| O’er the glimmering wave he hied him, | |
| Where the Burford reared her sail, | |
| With three thousand ghosts besides him, | |
| And in groans did Vernon hail. | |
| |
| Heed, oh, heed, our fatal story, | 25 |
| I am Hosier’s injured ghost, | |
| You, who now have purchased glory | |
| At this place where I was lost; | |
| Though in Porto-Bello’s ruin | |
| You now triumph free from fears, | 30 |
| 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 stained with weeping, | 35 |
| 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. | 40 |
| |
| I, by twenty sail attended, | |
| Did this Spanish town affright; | |
| Nothing then its wealth defended | |
| But my orders not to fight: | |
| Oh, that in this rolling ocean | 45 |
| I had cast them with disdain, | |
| And obeyed my heart’s warm motion | |
| To have quelled the pride of Spain; | |
| |
| For resistance I could fear none, | |
| But with twenty ships had done | 50 |
| What thou, brave and happy Vernon, | |
| Hast achieved with six alone. | |
| Then the Bastimentos never | |
| Had our foul dishonor seen, | |
| Nor the sea the sad receiver | 55 |
| Of this gallant train had been. | |
| |
| Thus like thee, proud Spain dismaying | |
| And her galleons leading home, | |
| Though condemned for disobeying, | |
| I had met a traitor’s doom. | 60 |
| To have fallen, my country crying | |
| He has played an English part, | |
| Had been better far than dying | |
| Of a grieved and broken heart. | |
| |
| Unrepining at thy glory, | 65 |
| 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, | 70 |
| 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, | 75 |
| Here I feed my constant woe: | |
| Here the Bastimentos viewing, | |
| We recall our shameful doom, | |
| And our plaintive cries renewing, | |
| Wander through the midnight gloom. | 80 |
| |
| O’er these waves forever mourning, | |
| Shall we roam deprived of rest, | |
| If to Britain’s shore returning, | |
| You neglect my just request; | |
| After this proud foe subduing, | 85 |
| When your patriot friends you see, | |
| Think on vengeance for my ruin, | |
| And for England shamed in me. | |
| |
