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Britons wept when they heard brave Nelson was wounded,
Cried aloud when they knew that a ball pierced his heart;
Yet it eas’d our distress to find him surrounded,
By those friends he loved, when compell’d to depart.

He requested to know the fate of the battle,
If t’was likely that England would conquor that day;
When they answer’d him Sir, by the weight of our metal,
More colours are struck and the reat in dismay.

Now Britons again feel a painful sensation,
For the loss of a Princess, beloved by us all;
There ne’er was a Lady fill’d better her station;
Yet Grim Death with his mandate alike strikes the ball.

Neither Princes, or Kings, can induce him to tarry,
Away from the object he’s order’d to strike;
To the aged, or young, to the giddy, or merry.
He darts out his arrows and wounds them alike.

Scarce had Providence made our lov’d Princess a mother,
When God thought it fit to call her above,
To taste of those joys rolling time cannot smother,
And share of those blessings that flows from his love,

To protect and to cherish the aged and helpless,
Her purse would be drawn, and its comforts expend;
When any misfortune were known for to hard press,
She’d find out the object and would them befriend.

Well may Brittons mourn, for tho’ in high station,
To enliven fair Commerce was always her care,
Her loss will be felt a long time by the Nation;
And sincere is the tear that is shed o’er her Bier.

Her donations were such as noted the sorrow,
She felt for the poor that were heard in distress;
And used for to say, I’ll assist them to morrow,
And try all my aid many cares to make less.

To England she’s left an example for others,
Which I hope will be copied till time is no more;
May all foreign nations, regard us as brothers,
And a free commerce gladden old Albion’s Shore.