General Abercrombie's Elegy/General Abercrombie's Elegy

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GENERAL ABERCROMBIE'S ELEGY.

Tune—Mourn for Melpomene.

⁠On Egypt’s dreary soil where tyrants rule,
Freedom’s dear son, brave Abercrombie fell!
Britons tis there your matchless hero lies
A victim to the vengeance winged ball.

⁠Ah hadst thou been content t’impart thy skill
To British heroes under thy command.
Thou might’st have been in life and safety still,
To visit once again thy native land.

⁠With dangers threatened and of dangers told,
Thou valiant leader scorned a safe retreat:
Midst fire and smoke and thunder rushed bold;
In hopes thy triumph soon would be complete.

⁠But thy intrepid soul and martial art
Led thee to where the winged thunder broke,
Fearless of danger from the assassin’s dart,
Firm and unshaken as a marble rock.

⁠Fame’s trumpet shall thy praise thro’ ages sound,
And please discernment with its grateful blast;
Thy merit shall in hist’ry’s page be found,
When hosry headed Nature groans her last.