My Nannie O/General Abercrombie

by Anonymous

GENERAL ABERCROMBIE.

'Twas on the spot in ancient lore oft nam'd.
Where Isis and Osiris once held sway,
O'er kings who sleep in pyramidic pride;
But now for British valour far more fam'd.
Since Nelson's band achiev'd a glorious day,
And, crown'd with laurel, Abercrombie died.

AIR.
Her roseate colours the dawn had not shed,
O'er the field which stern slaughter had tinted too red,
'Twas dark—save each flash at the cannon's hoarse sound—
When the brave Abercrombie receiv'd his death wound;

His comrades, with grief unaffected, deplore,
Tho' to Briton's renown he gave one laurel more
With a mind unsubdu'd, still the foe he defied.
On the steed which the Hero of Acre supplied;

Till feeling he soon to fate's summons must yield
He gave Sydney the sword he no longer could wield.
His comrades, with grief unaffected, deplore,
Tho' to Britain's renown he gave one laurel more.

The standard of Albion, with victory crown'd,
Wav'd over his head as he sank on the ground,
Take me hence, my brave comrades, the vet'ran did cry,
My duty's complete, and contented I die.

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