My luver's blood is on thy spear, How canst thou ever bid me luve thee? Yes, yes, prepare the bed, the bed of luve, Let in the expected husband lover. But who the expected husband husband is? Comes in his pale shroud, bleeding after? Pale as he is, here lay him, lay him down, Pale tho' thou art, yet best, yet best beluv'd, Pale, pale indeed, O luvely luvely youth, A. Return, return, O mournful, mournful bride, Thy luver heeds none of thy sighs, 95 100 105 110 115 120 XXV ADMIRAL HOSIER'S GHOST, —was a Party Song written by the ingenious author of Leonidas,'' on the taking of Porto Bello from the Spaniards by Admiral Vernon, Nov. 22, 1739. The case of Hosier, which is here so pathetically represented, was briefly this. In April, 1726, that commander was sent with a strong fleet into the Spanish West-Indies, to block up the galleons in the ports of that country, or, should they presume to come out, to seize and carry them into England: he accordingly arrived at the Bastimentos near Porto Bello, but being employed rather to overawe than to attack the Spaniards, with whom it was probably not our interest to go to war, he continued long inactive on that station, to his own great regret. He afterwards removed to Carthagena, and remained cruizing in these seas, till far the greater part of his men perished deplorably by the diseases of that unhealthy climate. This brave man, seeing his best officers and men thus daily swept away, his ships exposed to inevitable destruction, and himself made the sport of the enemy, is said to have died of a broken heart. Such is the account of Smollett, compared with that of other less partial writers. The following song is commonly accompanied with a Second Part, or Answer, which being of inferior merit, and apparently written by another hand, hath been rejected. As near Porto-Bello lying On the gently swelling flood, At midnight with streamers flying There while Vernon sate all-glorious On a sudden shrilly sounding, Hideous yells and shrieks were heard; A sad troop of ghosts appear'd, 5 10 1 An ingenious Correspondent informs the Editor, that this ballad hath been also attributed to the late Lord Bath.-[Glover, the author of ' Leonidas' and the 'Athenais,' was a merchant and an active M. P. for Weymouth; he died in 1785. -ED.]- Thomson describes the scene at Carthagena in his Summer,' and Smollett in Roderick Random.'-ED. 2 All in dreary hammocks shrouded, On them gleam'd the moon's wan lustre, 'Heed, oh! heed our fatal story, You now triumph free from fears, You will mix your joy with tears. See these mournful spectres sweeping Whose wan cheeks are stain'd with weeping; 35 I, by twenty sail attended, Did this Spanish town affright; 1 Admiral Vernon's ship. 40 Nothing then its wealth defended But my orders not to fight. I had cast them with disdain, For resistance I could fear none, But with twenty ships had done Had our foul dishonour seen, Nor the sea the sad receiver Of this gallant train had been. Thus, like thee, proud Spain dismaying, I had met a traitor's doom, He has play'd an English part! 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. 45 50 55 60 65 70 Hence, with all my train attending Here I feed my constant woe: We recal our shameful doom, O'er these waves for ever mourning After this proud foe subduing, When your patriot friends you see, Think on vengeance for my ruin, 75 80 85 XXVI. JEMMY DAWSON. James Dawson was one of the Manchester rebels, who was hanged, drawn, and quartered, on Kennington-common, in the county of Surrey, July 30, 1746. This ballad is founded on a remarkable fact, which was reported to have happened at his execution. It was written by the late William Shenstone, Esq; soon after the event, and has been printed amongst his posthumous works, 2 vols. 8vo. It is here given from a MS. which contained some small variations from that printed copy. COME listen to my mournful tale, Ye tender hearts, and lovers dear; 1 See our Edition of that Poet, page 164.-ED. |