I had composed a plaintive ballad in the second act [of "The Royal Oak"], for a 
Miss Wheatley (formerly a pupil of Attwood's), who possessed a fine deep contre 
alto voice...

Upon the fifth representation of the new play, Lady Hamilton, with a party of 
friends, occupied one of the stage-boxes, appearing all gaiety and animation. 
Scarcely, however, had this ballad commenced, when she became tremulous and 
agitated ; and at its conclusion, upon the encore being loudly demanded, she 
exclaimed, "For God's sake, remove me I cannot bear it." Her terrified friends 
withdrew her from the box, whence she was immediately conveyed home in a 
fainting condition. 

The following morning, Miss Wheatley received a note from her Ladyship, (to 
whom she had previously been unknown,) inviting her to her house, where, 
after complimenting her upon the force and feeling with which she had given 
the melody, she added, "The description brought our glorious Nelson with such 
terrible truth before my mind's eye, that you overwhelmed me at the moment, 
but now I feel as if I could listen to you in that air for ever." She 
prevailed upon her visitor to repeat the ballad no less than four times at 
the piano-forte, "as if increase of appetite grew by what it fed upon." 

Eventually, so powerful became this sentiment, that she induced Miss Wheatley 
to retire from the stage altogether, and accept, under her roof, the post of 
musical governess to the young Horatia Nelson, who had been confided to her 
Ladyship's guardianship. Not a day afterwards elapsed, but the favourite song 
was put in requisition. I published it under the title of "Rest, warrior, rest.
"It was generally esteemed one of my happiest efforts ; and at the present day 
is perpetually performed at concerts and music-meetings, by that delightful 
singer, the charming Miss M. Tree, who has given it a renewed fashion and zest.