(Adapted from Dibdin to the sad Circumstances of the Day.)
’Twas Prime Meridian, twelve at noon,
By signal I from Nancy parted;
At eight she watched the rising moon,
With wringing hands, half broken-hearted.
At nine, while tautening the fore-stay,
I saw her faint, unless ’twas fancy:
At ten we all got under weigh,
And bade a long adieu to Nancy!
Night came. The theme of every tongue