Songs, Naval and Military, Air

And must my dear William sail over the main? I fear, ah! I fear I shall see thee no more; In my mind I behold the broad ensigns display'd, The men all in order for battle array'd; The trumpet gives notice for fight to prepare, I die at the thoughts on't, I sink with despair. CHORUS, The trumpet, &c.

Should heaven assist thee against the proud foe, And conquest the laurel of vict'ry bestow! Safe return'd to my arms should I see thee again Escap'd from the contest where thousands are slain How blest will my fate be,—while many must mourn, For those whom grim death won't permit to return; My spirits revive, safe from war's dread alarms, My William with glory shall bless these fond arms.

WILL, in whose bread each manly virtue shone, With sympathizing sorrow heard her moan; First wiped the tears that started in his eyes, And then to calm her sorrow thus he tries.