She shall invoke the softest air,
Or ask the chilling storm to spare,
And bless thy humble bed.




LINES

TO LADY WARREN,

_On the Departure of Sir John Borlase Warren, K.B_.

TO TAKE THE COMMAND OF A SQUADRON.


Oh! why does sorrow shade thy face,
Where mind and beauty vie with grace?
Say, dost thou for thy hero weep,
Who gallantly, upon the deep,
Is gone to tell the madd'ning foe,
Tho' vict'ry laid our Nelson low,
We still have chiefs as greatly brave,
Proudly triumphant on the wave?
Dear to thy Country shall thou be,
Fair mourner! and her sympathy
Is thine; for, in the war's alarms,
Thou gav'st thine hero from thine arms;
And only ask'd to sigh alone,
To look to heav'n, and weep him gone.