On a sudden shrilly sounding, Hideous yells and shrieks were heard; Then each heart with fear confounding, A sad troop of ghosts appeared, All in dreary hammocks shrouded, Which for winding-sheets they wore, And with looks by sorrow clouded Frowning on that hostile shore. On them gleamed the moon's wan lustre, When the shade of Hosier brave His pale bands were seen to muster Rising from their watery grave. O'er the glimmering wave he hied him, Where the Burford reared her sail, With three thousand ghosts beside him, And in groans did Vernon hail. "Heed, oh heed our fatal story; I am Hosier's injured ghost, You who now have purchased glory At this place where I was lost! Though in Porto-Bello's ruin You now triumph free from fears, When you think on our undoing, You will mix your joy with tears. "See these mournful spectres sweeping Ghastly o'er this hated wave, Whose wan cheeks are stained with weeping; These were English captains brave. Mark those numbers pale and horrid, Those were once my sailors bold: Lo, each hangs his drooping forehead While his dismal tale is told. "I, by twenty sail attended, Did this Spanish town affright; Nothing then its wealth defended But my orders not to fight. Oh! that in this rolling ocean I had cast them with disdain, And obeyed my heart's warm motion To have quelled the pride of Spain! "For resistance I could fear none, But with twenty ships had done What thou, brave and happy Vernon Hast achieved with six alone. Then the Bastimentos never Had our foul dishonour seen; Nor the sea the sad receiver Of this gallant train had been. "Thus, like thee, proud Spain dismaying, And her galleons leading home, Though condemned for disobeying, I had met a traitor's doom, To have fallen, my country crying He has played an English part; Had been better far than dying Of a grieved and broken heart. "Unrepining at thy glory, Thy successful arms we hail; But remember our sad story, And let Hosier's wrongs prevail. Sent in this foul clime to languish, Think what thousands fell in vain, Wasted with disease and anguish, Not in glorious battle slain. "Hence with all my train attending From their oozy tombs below, Through the hoary foam ascending, Here I feed my constant woe: Here the Bastimentos viewing, We recall our shameful doom, And our plaintive cries renewing, Wander through the midnight gloom.