On a sudden shrilly sounding,Hideous yells and shrieks were heard;
Then each heart with fear confounding,A sad troop of ghosts appeared,All in dreary hammocks shrouded,Which for winding-sheets they wore,And with looks by sorrow clouded Frowning on that hostile shore.
On them gleamed the moon's wan lustre,When the shade of Hosier brave His pale bands were seen to muster Rising from their watery grave.
O'er the glimmering wave he hied him,Where the Burford reared her sail,With three thousand ghosts beside him,And in groans did Vernon hail.
"Heed,oh heed our fatal story;
I am Hosier's injured ghost,You who now have purchased glory At this place where I was lost!
Though in Porto-Bello's ruin You now triumph free from fears,When you think on our undoing,You will mix your joy with tears.
"See these mournful spectres sweeping Ghastly o'er this hated wave,Whose wan cheeks are stained with weeping;
These were English captains brave.
Mark those numbers pale and horrid,Those were once my sailors bold:
Lo,each hangs his drooping forehead While his dismal tale is told.
"I,by twenty sail attended,Did this Spanish town affright;
Nothing then its wealth defended But my orders not to fight.
Oh!that in this rolling ocean I had cast them with disdain,And obeyed my heart's warm motion To have quelled the pride of Spain!