BALLAD. (When last in the Dreadful your honour…)

When last in the Dreadful your honour set sail, On Newfoundland banks, there came on a hard gale, There was thunder, red lightning, and cold whistling hail, Enough the old gemman to scare;

One who threaten'd your life, dash'd below by a wave, Your own hand I saw snatch from a watery grave; And you said 'twas well done, for that still with the brave The noblest of glory's to spare.

When yard arm and yard arm long side of a foe, When the blood from the scuppers rain'd on us below, When crippled enough to be taken in tow, To strike we saw mounseer prepare;

If a broadside below, or a volley above, The men were all ready to give her for love, How oft has your honour cry'd not a hand move, A hero's true glory's to spare.