To the Memory of Sir John Lockhart Ross
Heroic virtue deigns for to engross
My muse, to keep the good in memory:
Then it shall be of famous L OCKHART R OSS ,
When his name gilds, my strains can never die.
H OWARD and Drake did bless E LIZA'S reign.
And R ALEIGH pour'd destruction on our foes.
R USSEL and R OOKE were both the scourge of Spain.
Yet none more so than our immortal Ross.
He with his little Tartar did more good
Than any first-rate in the British fleet;
Of privateers and ships he swept the flood,
For conquer or destruction was their fate.
He had on board once thirty thousand pounds,
On purpose for to pay off Plymouth dock.
A large French ship dogg'd him right off the Sounds
He took her, tho' she stood like shore of rock.
The Chatham next, and Bedford sixty four,
And in the Shrewsbury he stood the charge,
With K EPPEL , in a very needful hour,
Which made him Adm'ral in the Royal George.
When brave L ANGARA , with the pride of Spain
Was beat by R ODNEY , L OCKHART R OSS then gave
(In midst of triumph) proof he was humane,
By saving thousands from Mount Calpa's wave.
Well I remember of that bloody fray,
When our immortal thunderbolt of war
Assign'd to heaven the glory of the day,
Who did protect each valiant British tar.
In peace or war, when seamen plough the main,
Far to the wild, inhospitable shore,
Our hero's name for ever gilds their strain,
When o'er their heads th' imperious billows roar.
No need had he of the infernal Press,
For Britain's sons all serv'd him voluuteers.
His death did all our spirits sore depress,
And Neptune's darling sons were drown'd in tears.
H AIL to the M EM'RY of our hero, hail!
With R ODNEY , H OWE , brave B ARRINGTON , and H OOD :
While such command, Britannia weighs the scale.
As umpire and sole mistress of the flood.
My muse, to keep the good in memory:
Then it shall be of famous L OCKHART R OSS ,
When his name gilds, my strains can never die.
H OWARD and Drake did bless E LIZA'S reign.
And R ALEIGH pour'd destruction on our foes.
R USSEL and R OOKE were both the scourge of Spain.
Yet none more so than our immortal Ross.
He with his little Tartar did more good
Than any first-rate in the British fleet;
Of privateers and ships he swept the flood,
For conquer or destruction was their fate.
He had on board once thirty thousand pounds,
On purpose for to pay off Plymouth dock.
A large French ship dogg'd him right off the Sounds
He took her, tho' she stood like shore of rock.
The Chatham next, and Bedford sixty four,
And in the Shrewsbury he stood the charge,
With K EPPEL , in a very needful hour,
Which made him Adm'ral in the Royal George.
When brave L ANGARA , with the pride of Spain
Was beat by R ODNEY , L OCKHART R OSS then gave
(In midst of triumph) proof he was humane,
By saving thousands from Mount Calpa's wave.
Well I remember of that bloody fray,
When our immortal thunderbolt of war
Assign'd to heaven the glory of the day,
Who did protect each valiant British tar.
In peace or war, when seamen plough the main,
Far to the wild, inhospitable shore,
Our hero's name for ever gilds their strain,
When o'er their heads th' imperious billows roar.
No need had he of the infernal Press,
For Britain's sons all serv'd him voluuteers.
His death did all our spirits sore depress,
And Neptune's darling sons were drown'd in tears.
H AIL to the M EM'RY of our hero, hail!
With R ODNEY , H OWE , brave B ARRINGTON , and H OOD :
While such command, Britannia weighs the scale.
As umpire and sole mistress of the flood.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.