He said, nor needed more to say: with haste
To their known stations cheerfully they go;
And all at once, disdaining to be last,

Solicit every gale to meet the foe.

Nor did th' encourag'd Belgians long delay,
But bold in others, not themselves, they stood:
So thick, our navy scarce could steer their way,
But seem'd to wander in a moving wood.

Our little fleet was now engag'd so far,

That like the sword-fish in the whale they fought: The combat only seem'd a civil war,

Till through their bowels we

wrought:

Never had valour, no not ours, before

our passage

Done aught like this upon the land or main, Where not to be o'ercome was to do more

Than all the conquests former kings did gain.

The mighty ghosts of our great Harries rose,
And armed Edwards look'd with anxious eyes,
To see this fleet among unequal foes,

By which Fate promis'd them their Charles should rise.

Meantime the Belgians tack upon our rear,
And raking chace-guns through our sterns they
send:

Close by, their fire-ships, like jackals, appear,
Who on their lions for the prey attend.

Silent, in smoke of cannon they come on:
Such vapours once did fiery Cacus hide :
In these the height of pleas'd revenge is shown,
Who burn contented by another's side.

Sometimes from fighting squadrons of each fleet, Deceiv'd themselves, or to preserve some friend, Two grappling Etnas on the ocean meet,

And English fires with Belgian flames contend.

Now at each tack our little fleet grows less; [main: And, like maim'd fowl, swim lagging on the Their greater loss their numbers scarce confess, While they lose cheaper than the English gain,

Have you not seen, when, whistled from the fist, Some falcon stoops at what her eye design'd, And with her eagerness the quarry miss'd,

Straight flies at check, and clips it down the wind?

The dastard crow, that to the wood made wing,
And sees the groves no shelter can afford,
With her loud kaws her craven kind does bring,
Who safe in numbers cuff the noble bird.

Among the Dutch thus Albemarle did fare :
He could not conquer, and disdain'd to fly;
Past hope of safety, 'twas his latest care,
Like falling Cæsar, decently to die.

Yet pity did his manly spirit move,

To see those perish who so well had fought: And generously with his despair he strove, Resolv'd to live till he their safety wrought.

Let other Muses write his prosperous fate,

Of conquer'd nations tell, and kings restor❜d: But mine shall sing of his eclips'd estate,

Which, like the Sun's, more wonders does afford.

He drew his mighty frigates all before,

On which the foe his fruitless force employs:
His weak ones deep into his rear he bore
Remote from guns, as sick men from the noise.

His fiery cannon did their passage guide,
And following smoke obscur'd them from the foe;
Thus Israel, safe from the Egyptian's pride,
By flaming pillars and by clouds did go.

Elsewhere the Belgian force we did defeat,
But here our courages did theirs subdue :
So Xenophon once led that fam'd retreat,

Which first the Asian empire overthrew.

The foe approach'd; and one for his bold sin
Was sunk; as he that touch'd the ark was slain;
The wild waves master'd him and suck'd him in,
And smiling eddies dimpled on the main.

This seen, the rest at awful distance stood :
As if they had been there as servants set
To stay, or to go on, as he thought good,
And not pursue but wait on his retreat.

So Libyan huntsmen, on some sandy plain,
From shady coverts rous'd, the lion chase:
The kingly beast roars out with loud disdain,

And slowly moves, unknowing to give place.

But if some one approach to dare his force,
He swings his tail, and swiftly turns him round:
With one paw seizes on his trembling horse,

And with the other tears him to the ground.

Amidst these toils succeeds the balmy night; Now hissing waters the quench'd guns restore; And weary waves withdrawing from the fight, Lie lull'd and panting on the silent shore.

The Moon shone clear on the becalmed flood, Where, while her beams like glittering silver play, Upon the deck our careful general stood,

And deeply mus'd on the succeeding day.

"That happy Sun," said he, " will rise again,
Who twice victorious did our navy see:

And I alone must view him rise in vain,
Without one ray of all his star for me.

"Yet, like an English general will I die,
And all the ocean make my spacious grave:
Women and cowards on the land may lie;

The sea's a tomb that 's proper for the brave."

Restless he pass'd the remnant of the night,

Till the fresh air proclaim'd the morning nigh:
And burning ships, the martyrs of the fight,
With paler fires beheld the eastern sky.

But now, his stores of ammunition spent,
His naked valour is his only guard :
Rare thunders are from his dumb cannon sent,
And solitary guns are scarcely heard.

Thus far had Fortune power, he forc'd to stay,
Nor longer durst with Virtue be at strife:
This is a ransom Albemarle did pay,

For all the glories of so great a life.

For now brave Rupert from afar appears,
Whose waving streamers the glad general knows :
With full-spread sails his eager navy steers,
And every ship in swift proportion grows.

The anxious prince had heard the cannon long,
And from that length of time dire omens drew
Of English overmatch'd, and Dutch too strong,
Who never fought three days, but to pursue.

Then, as an eagle, who with pious care

Was beating widely on the wing for prey, To her now silent eiry does repair,

And finds her callow infants forc'd away :

Stung with her love, she stoops upon the plain,
The broken air loud whistling as she flies:
She stops and listens, and shoots forth again,
And guides her pinions by her young ones' cries.

With such kind passion hastes the prince to fight,
And spreads his flying canvass to the sound:
Him, whom no danger, were he there, could fright,
Now absent every little noise can wound.

As in a drought the thirsty creatures cry,
And gape upon the gather'd clouds for rain:

And first the martlet meets it in the sky,

And with wet wings joys all the feather'd train :