Song #9 Poem by Christian Milne

WHAT shouts of rejoicing were heard from our crew,
When the dear sea-girt island appear'd to our view!
Each arranging delighted his sea borne store,
As gifts to the friends whom he valued on shore;
But the foe intercepting his flag did display!
As Britons, we fear'd not to fall in his way:
Yet Fortune forsook us, and sided with Spain,
And I ne'er shall see ANNA or Scotland again!
Captivity's hardships a tear never drew,
But, alas! I shed many, dear ANNA , for you;
Thy well try'd affection, with sorrow I fear,
Will lay thee too early on death's chilly bier:
'Tis this bitter thought which gives birth to my sighs!
'Tis a tear of remembrance that falls from these eyes!
I but dreaded the thunder of France and proud Spain,
Lest I ne'er should see ANNA or Scotland again!