A Cenotaph,

Oh, hadst thou fall'n, brave youth! on that proud day, When our victorious fleet o'er the red surge Rolled in terrific glory, thou hadst fall'n Most honoured; and Remembrance, while she thought Upon thy gallant end, had dried her tear! Now far beyond the huge Atlantic wave Thy bones decay; the withering pestilence, That swept the islands of the western world, Smote thee, untimely drooping to the tomb! But 'tis enough; whate'er a soldier's fate, That firm he hied him, where stern honour bade; Though with unequal strength, he sunk and died.