"W. N. H".
The Monthly Mirror, V (January 1798), p. 42
Prythee why so melancholy?
Sighing cannot give him life:—
Cease, those tears are unavailing,
Oh! thus early widow'd wife!
He, obeying calls of honour,
Nobly march'd into the field;
Fierce his country's foes opposing,
Fame his weapon; love his shield—
Thousands soon their fate lamenting,
Hapless sought an early grave—
Thou, alas! amongst the number!
Deeds of valour could not save—
Fare thee well thou gallant hero!
Death hath struck a double blow—
That same wound which stretch'd thee bleeding
Soon will lay thy Mary low!