Heed, oh heed! my fatal story

Hence with all my train attending From their oozy tombs below, Through the hoary foam ascending Here I feed my constant woe.

After this proud foe subduing, When your patriot friends you see, Think on vengeance for my ruin, And for England sham'd in me.

To have fall'n, my country crying, He has play'd an English part, Had been better far than dying Of a griev'd and broken heart.

As, near Porto Bello lying, On the gently swelling flood, At midnight, with streamers flying, Our triumphant navy rode.

Sent in this foul clime to languish Think what thousands fell in vain, Wasted with disease and anguish, Not in glorious battle slain.

The scene was changed. It was a bark that slowly held its way, And o'er its lee the coast of France in the light of evening lay; And on its deck a lady sat, who gazed with tearful eyes Upon the fast receding hills that dim and distant rise.