Yet, e’er he died, he did require,
How many ships were then on fire,
And others that had struck:
Well pleased the hero then was seen,
When told the number was fifteen;
For England was his care.
Then with a bright benignant smile,
Imploring blessings on our Isle,
Bade Collingwood adieu;
Oh, gracious God! my soul receive,
From troubles England quick relieve,
And peace again renew.
Oh death! thy keen unwelcome blow,
Laid England’s darling bleeding low,
The hour he gain’d the day;
Soon as thy hand had clos’d his eyes,
A beauteous angel from the skies;
Flew with his soul away.
To taste sweet joys beyond the grave,
That are allotted for the brave,
Who fall in victory’s arms:
Many a tar we hope to find,
Will prove he has the hero’s mind,
When signals raise alarms
WALKER, PRINTER, NEAR THE DUKE’S PALACE