University of Virginia Library

After a Prelude of Rule Britannia, the Curtain rises, and discovers a Sea Port.
The Music now takes a strain correspondent to the approach of a Vessel, discovered at Sea, which lands a Post Captain with his Boat's Crew.
(Music ceases.)
Sea Captain.
HAIL to my native land! With favouring airs
O'er the curl'd billows, curtsying as we pass'd
To give us welcome, our light galley glides;
Whilst Fame, bestriding her swift prow, displays
The laurel Crown her dying Hero sends.
(Flourish of martial Music.)
Oh Albion, sea-girt Goddess, Queen of Isles,
We bring thee trophies, nobly, hardly earn'd,
Torn from the vanquisht foe; but bath'd, alas!
And all o'er red with thy dear Children's blood,
The best, the bravest blood, that ever flow'd
From human veins and mingled with the waves.
(Slow and soft Music.)
Sad Mother, thou must mourn thy fav'rite Son,
For Heav'n, which put the trident in thy hand,
And bade thee wave it o'er the subject seas,
Now bids thee cloak thyself in sable weeds,
And, following his dead body, intertwine
The funeral cypress with the conqu'ring wreath.

(Solo, Mr. Braham.)

(A mixt company of Soldiers, Sailors, & Women enter.)
Soldier.
Whence came ye, friends, and what hath England lost,
That shou'd provoke these melancholy strains?
Speak, if your sorrows will give way to words,
And let us hear the tidings that you bring;
For we are soldiers, and will defend our shores,
Our King, our Country, and the generous Fair,
Whose smiles inspire the courage that protects them.

(Martial Music.)
Sea Captain.
Hear me, my gallant friends, and whilst I tell
How your combining foes by thousands fell,
If the afflicting loss of One so dear
Should damp your kindling transports with a tear,
Remember whilst his mortal part has rest,
Th' immortal lives in every Briton's breast;
Tho' short his span of life, recording Fame
Inscribes a deathless volumn to his Name;
And there in each immortalizing page
He lives, and still shall live from age to age.
(Sprightly Music.)
Remember too, the Hero, as he fell,
To his brave Second sent his last farewell;
Instant his soul, to deeds of glory fir'd,
As with the Prophet's mantle was inspir'd.
In this one word he read the full intent,
And knew 'twas This his lov'd Commander meant;
—“Mourn not for Me! 'tis vain. Chase grief away,
“Compleat my work, and crown the Glorious Day!”
—Behold, 'tis done! His parting Spirit flew,
And lighting rests, brave Collingwood, with you.

Woman.
Daughters of Albion, mourn your Hero dead,
For you he conquer'd and for you he bled,
E'er the commission'd ball had stopt his breath,
He hail'd the Victory purchas'd with his death.
Maim'd tho' he was, and shorn of Nature's right,
In action stinted and curtail'd of sight,
Still in his mangled frame whilst Heav'n wou'd spare
One living atom, his great soul was there;
His very name appall'd the fear-struck foe,
Exterminating nations at a blow.
Tell me, recorders of a distant age,
Is there a name like his in History's page?
There is a man, the scourge of present times,
A living monument of human crimes,
He triumphs over Liberties and Laws,
He lives—but NELSON dies in Freedom's Cause;
Heav'n from the World its gracious loan withdrew,
And by enriching Him, impoverish'd You.

(Martial Music.)
Sea Captain.
He lives, he lives! Let our loud Pæans rise,
And hail his Spirit as it mounts the skies.
Peace to the Dead! With joyous triumph greet
The living Heroes of your conqu'ring Fleet!
They come, they come! Let France command her slaves,
Freedom is our's, for Britain rules the waves.

(GLEE for three Voices, Mr. Braham, Mr. Cooke, Mrs. Bland.)
He lives, he lives! Let our loud Pæans rise,
And hail his Spirit as it mounts the skies.
Peace to the Dead! With joyous triumph greet
The living Heroes of your conqu'ring Fleet!
They come, they come! Let France command her slaves,
Freedom is our's, for Britain rules the waves.
Chorus.
They come, they come! Let France command her slaves,
Freedom is Our's, for Britain rules the Waves.