Concordia rara sonorum, OR A POEM UPON The late Fight at Sea, between the two great Fleets of ENGLAND AND HOLLAND.
By I. D. Esq
LONDON, Printed for J. Ridley, at the Castle in Fleet-Street, neer Ram Alley, 1653.
A POEM, Ʋpon the late Fight at Sea, between the two great Fleets of ENGLAND AND HOLLAND.
WARS, worse then Pitch-feilds, on a moving plaine,
We sing, and for it; where two States retaine
In their owne bowels their victorious shot,
Vast Wounds, and horrid Death, yet feele them not.
And, as
Romes paire with this point dig'd their grave,
Caesar no first,
Pompey no Peere would have:
[Page 2]Iust so tis here with us;
Van-trump allowes
No State to his Superiour; and
Blake vowes,
Ours hath no equall: neither thus will vaile,
[...]ut loose a Fleet, rather then strike a Saile.
Thus both march on, cutting deep
Neptunes Brow,
(Prodigious sight, to cal't I know not how!)
Whether two running Townes, or waving Woods
Or rather Islands tumbling on the Floods.
At whose approach the curled Billowes roare,
And, as they come, fearefully roll before.
The oppressed towr-like whales lye bellowing unde
[...]
That
Neptune seem'd t' usurp his Brothers Thunder.
The silent Fish, presaging future blood,
Against their kind run frighted into th' mud:
And, had they wings, would from the Sea have broaken
And but for churlish nature would have spoken,
To manifest their feare; yet, what they might,
They fled apace, to shun the dreadfull sight.
The Oceans king, feeling such weight on's backe,
With leaning on his Trident made it cracke.
[Page 3]Had it not been immoveable, they say,
The Earth this time would faine have fled away;
And the amas'd shoare, as each Fleet neer sounds
Almost forgot to keep's ordained bounds.
One might have thought the Battell was begun,
To see how
Neptune first was thorough run;
How the Sterne brasse his curled forehead toare,
And trembling waves were strucke by cruell oare.
Each Fleet the Captaines had divided soon,
Into the forme of an halfe-circled Moon:
But as their furious hornes together met,
These two halfe Moones a full Moon did beget;
Which like to that in Heaven, as it did go,
Made the fleet waters strangly ebb and flow.
Now as with proud advance they neerer came;
Those Beasts which gave the saile-rul'd vessels name,
With an aspect more grim then is their life,
As breathing nought but warr, and balefull strife,
Came feircely forward all; as if from thence
They meant to move their painted residence.
[Page 4]The Lion, Elephant, and savage Hog,
The Lybard, Tygre, Wolfe, and cruell Dog
Sternly affront each other; one might guesse
In midst of Sea a savage Wildernesse:
Wherein with admiration one might see
So many a feirce wilde Beast, so many a Tree.
But now our valiant Generall traversing
About the Fleet, encouraged them, rehersing
This speech; wherein he bravely did exhort
To th' fight: which ready, cut the Oration short,
Courage, brave English; that is all I pray,
Strength cannot want, where courage leads the way.
But what need I th' undanted hearts excite
Of them, whose eyes, methinks, already fight.
Looke as yee do, and you shall never need
Weapons, or hands, to make your foes to bleed:
Your lookes will strike them dead, and war-like sight
Shall put your fearefull Enemies to flight.
VVhat ere you aime at, here before you lye,
Honour, Revenge, Spoile, Riches, Victory:
[Page 5]VVhich if they move not, see your native Land,
Your Nurse, your Mother, see how she doth stand
Afar, to marke which of you best shall render
Thanks for her nurture, who shall best defend her.
Them will she honour: bravely then drive backe
This Dutch Sea-monster; which is come to racke
Your Nurses entrails: come't but once to Land,
The very Earth will be affraid to stand
Its cruell brunt; whether if reach it can,
The blood and tears will make an Ocean,
Deeper then this. I see'em now repaire,
(O let my Omen vanish into Aire-)
Ʋnto your Land: see how the Hogens rage
About your Coasts, sparing nor Sexe, nor Age.
See how they pull strong walls of Cities downe,
Leaving the men as naked as the Towne.
They raze your sacred Temples, and not leave
A hallowed place, where after yee may heave
Your hands for aide to Heaven; your Altars frames
These wicked wretches with prophaned flames
[Page 6]Sacrifice to their anger; yea they dare
To open ghostly Tombes, and thence lay bare
Your Ancestors sad Coffins; whose dead ashes,
Instead of tears, their Childrens blood be-dashes.
See how in few houres they act or'e againe
Each horrid passage, every bloody sceane
Of your late sev'n yeares Tragedy; and do out do
VVhat ere was left done, or undone by you.
These things, which Heav'n be thankt, I but suppose,
Vnless you help, will once advance your foes.
Say that your Navie be far lesse then theirs;
Have not great Ships amidst their swift carreers
Been staied by little
Remoraes? Then on;
And let not this cold Element, whereon
VVee are to fight, quench those couragious flames,
VVhich burne in every manly breast, which aimes
At immortality: but strike so sterne,
That the dumb Fishes may hereafter learne
To speake your praises, and each wave report
Vnto its Neighbour, in how valiant sort
[Page 7]Ye fought; till that the Oceans utmost bound,
And farthest
Thule, with your fame shall sound:
Yea that the Sun, When he at night shall presse
This way, may go and tell th'
Antipedes,
What acts he saw. Nor yet of aide despaire;
The Sea it selfe, if need shall aske, will spare
A thousand of his streaming armes for you;
All Fish prove Sword-fish, to fight for our due.
Thinke for no refuge here to flye; your hand,
Not feet, must bring you backe againe to Land.
No longer will the time with us dispence;
What my speech wants, my Sword shall recompence.
Now 'twixt a thousand lives, a thousand deaths,
Of time one little winged minute breaths.
The loud mouth'd Gun onely expects the fire,
At touch of which, as burnt, it should expire
Its skreiking voice, groaning that so much death
Should be accomplisht by th' infectious breath
Of its dire mouth: Darts readie are to part,
And hide their heads in some ill fortun'd heart.
[Page 8]Arrows and Muskets leveld, seem to kill,
Before they can in act, in fiery will.
One might have thought, viewing this fearfull fight,
'T had been the picture of a navall fight.
But hark, the amazing signes of battell sound,
Making the land remote, and rocks rebound.
The shril voic't Trumpet, and couragious Drum
In barbarous language bid the
Dutch to come.
Deaths horrid vizard now begins to appeare,
In their pale faces; terrour, and ghastly feare
In their amazed hearts doe panting rise;
And future blood-baths in their fiery eyes;
Stern cruelty advanceth on their lids,
With headlong fury stalking in the mids:
Apelles present here, or one so skilld,
Might have made pictures hence that would have kild.
The thundring Ordnance now began to rent
The amazed aire; the flames before it sent,
Seem lightning; and as deadly bullets flie,
Prodigious hail seemd to poure down the Skie;
[Page 9]Smoake made a Cloudy mist; and all together
Seem on the Sea to raise tempestuous weather.
To call for aid here, stands as much in stead,
As in that place, where from a doubtfull head
The seven-mouthd
Nilus with a desperate shock,
Headlong doth tumble from the amazed rock;
Making the people on the neighbouring shelves,
That hearing him, they cannot hear themselves.
Thus the fights noise made many a man to fall,
An inconsider'd, silent funerall.
Alasse these Elements, which use t' uphold
Our crazy lives with their just heat and cold,
Making compact our bodies constitution,
Strive now to cause its utter dissolution.
The quick and peircing fire, as it doth burn
Their wofull carkasses, doth
freezing turn
Their minds to quaking fear, and Chill dispaire.
The liquid, flitting, and all-searching aire,
Admits remorselesse shot, and murthring darts,
Denying breath at last to cool their hearts.
[Page 10]The theevish water, though it ran away
With subtle shifts, did notwithstanding slay,
And swallow most with a devouring flood:
Onely poor Earth, stark, still, astonishd stood.
Who viewing this, would not have thought a wonder,
That without rain, winde, lightning, hail, or thunder,
Or hidden shelves, or Rocks sea-ambusht back,
Or any tempests, Ships should suffer wrack?
That one might here have term'd it, choose you whether,
A stormy-calme, or calme-tempestuous weather.
But now each Fleet, each Ship, with hopeful pride,
Clash altogether furious side to side.
Men now, with men contend, and Ships with Ships,
One body 'gainst another: here one skips
Into his enemies Deck; but beaten back,
He leaps to's owne; of which if so he lack,
He falls ith' Sea: much like a wave, whose head,
By urging winds unto the shore is lead,
And thence by brest of the oft-drowned shoare,
Taking a blunt repulse, for spite doth roare;
[Page 11]And staggering runs back; and is this all
Ambition aimes at, in the way to fall?
Their tired senses labour'd in such wise,
As they grew dull with too much excercise.
Their troubled eyes, viewing such ghastlie sights,
Wish'd that sad darknesse canceld all their lights.
That horrid noise, the battell made, was such,
Hearing heard nothing, 'cause it heard so much.
Tast is of death; ranck blood pollutes the smell:
What feeling felt, they all did feel too well.
Such a confusion racks their senses here,
Th' had reason now to wish, they senslesse were.
Grim death in purple stalks upon the hatches,
With pale and greisly looks see how he snatches
Hundreds at once unto him; till the dreary,
Lean-fac'd, ill-favourd death, of death grew weary.
See on the Sea how thousand bodies float,
From their great Ships, hasting to
Charons Boat;
Which crabbed Skuller now doth think it meet,
His old torn Boat should be new changd a Fleet.
[Page 12]The tumults noise
peirc'd the blew arched Skie,
The Christall aire, stild with a deadly cry,
Onely in this was blest; as blowes abounded,
It could be ever cut, yet never wounded.
The silent earth, glad that shee was debard
From this sad sight, yet inwardly was heard
The dreadfull strokes, rebounding loud, to mone,
And Eccho made her yeeld a hollow grone.
But this cause cheifly made her most to rave,
That to her due the Sea should prove a grave.
Never did strong-breath'd
Aeolus disturbe
The Sea so much; when he can hardly curb
His madding Pages, when they raging muster
To quarrell with the waves, or whistling bluster
Among the well-set trees, and branched boughs,
Singing through chinks of some decayed house.
Nor sterne
Orion, with his stormy light
Appalling Shipmen, doth so much afright
The soon-mov'd Sea, as did this battels noise,
Which
Neptune answerd with his bellowing voice;
[Page 13]Who, as the Fleet urg'd neerer to the strand;
With tumbling pace ran frighted up the sand:
That had not bounds restrain'd his element,
His watery vaile had cloath'd the Continent.
The fearfull winds on the Ocean durst not rome;
But, lest they should be smother'd, kept at home,
And there sate sighing: Clouds their rain doe keep,
(Though ready at the battels sight to weep)
Lest their pure drops with gore-blood should be stain'd
So that no winds blew, nor from Heaven it rain'd.
Marvell not yet at tempests on the flood,
So many tears stream'd, and such streams of blood;
Nor without winds are waves to be admir'd,
So many groans, and dying breaths expir'd.
The Oceans skaly, silent, wandring nation,
Seeing pale armed troups invade the station
Of their vast Kingdome, down the sanguine flood
Fearfully glide, fearing their future food.
The tender Nymphs, who with their silver feet
Vse on the plaines of crisped
Thetis meet;
[Page 14]Where tripping prettily, they are wont to dance
Themselves into a heavenly slumbring trance
Of sweet repose, at these inhumane shocks,
With haire all torne, creep into th' hollow rocks:
Where shrowded, they to meditate began,
No rock so flinty as the heart of man.
Yea
Thetis selfe, whose womb enriched bare
That fearfull thunder of the
Troian warre,
Stubborn
Achilles, who in fight did win
Such glory, wishd that wars had never bin:
So she, with all her trembling watry peeres,
Augment the brinish sea with brinish teares.
Ships now begin to burne; that one might see
Neptunes and
Vulcans consanguinity.
Yea now those ships, which free from water stood,
Strangely begin to sinke with humane blood;
Which, as from thence with fearfull gush it ran,
Filld up the wrinkles of the Ocean;
Which Sea so full of dead, it hence might come
Well to be called
Mar e mortu
[...]m.
[Page 15]The quaking Ships with murmuring Guns are rent,
Whose wounded sides the goared streams do vent
Of dead, and wounded men; who lay therein,
As if they had their Beers, or Coffins bin:
They lay therein; and as the Ships did goe,
Seem'd bloody, bloodlesse, dead, and moving too.
The furious flames with firedoth undermine
The towring Mast, made of the lofty Pine;
So that same tree, which oft lights Nuptials,
Now Cypres-like doth burn at funerals.
Thus eaten by the
galling flames, at last
Falls down the huge, high-mounted, weighty Mast;
And, as great things are wont, fell not alone,
Killing a troup, not of its foes, but's owne.
The tacklings, sailes, and cables, now doe burn;
And fire casts Anchors never to return.
About their eares the whistling bullets sung;
And wandring wild-fire made the affrighted throng
Croud into corners speedily, and they,
That durst stand men, to senslesse fire give way.
[Page 16]As when within the fat
Trinacrian soile
Inflamed
Aetna doth begin to boile;
When nak'd
Pyracmon, with his round-eyd fellows,
Sweating, heave up their huge, strong-breathed bellows;
Thundring upon their steely Anvils top,
To furnish Armour for their smoaky shop;
Their ponderous hammers, and redoubling, makes
Enceladus belch out his sulph'ry flakes
Of vengefull wrath; then may you see black Smoake
Vomiting out, wrapt in a pitchy Cloake;
And the hard bowells of the mountain, torne
By fettered fire, with a strange bounding borne
Vp to the clouds; whose fearfull fall to shun,
The Neighbouring people with amazement run
To shrouding dens; hiding them closely under,
Fearing from high, and from below a Thunder.
Thus did the inhumane Battells fury rage;
Nor could the Sea the increasing flames asswage.
Hee, that would now have travelled to Hell,
Might have seene weary, sweating
Charon swell
[Page 17]In fervent labour, with his mossy oares,
Tugging pale shadowes to th' o're-swarm'd shoares;
Which on the Bankes as they lamenting crept,
VVailing
Cocytus in compassion wept:
Acheron flow'd with griefe; and, as they say,
Lethe her selfe will ne're forget this day.
The furies whin'd, by
Plutoes judgment cast,
VVho sweare their rage was farre by men surpast.
One coming here, might tired
Clotho spy,
How she could scarce her weary armes apply
To turne the wheele; and
Lachesis repine,
VVho sware she could not threads of mortals twine
So fast, as they were cut; you might have seene
Atropos raging with remorcelesse teen;
And seeking each where for some greety Stone
To whether Sheers; whose edge was dulled growne.
VVith too much cutting of their fatall thread,
VVhose haplesse lives this gastfull Battell shed:
Fire now, and water did not each contend;
But seeme their power so mutually to lend,
[Page 18]That at this time there many a one became
Burnt in the Sea, and drowned in the flame.
This one good hap to carkasses did fall,
Th' had fire to burn 'em at their funerall.
The mangled Ships, not fearing to be drench'd,
Gladly take
breaches, thereby to be quench'd.
The industrious Pilot, sitting at the stern,
Where in a little Card he can discern
The vast uncertainty of
Neptunes haunt,
Ruling swift Ships by powerfull Adamant;
Here as he sits retir'd, and watchfull minds,
The frequent change of two and thirty winds,
Comes an unruly shot, and him doth force
To certain death, change his uncertain course:
So he, that wont stern blasts in truce to bind,
Could not foresee when he should loose his wind;
From stormes and mists of death he could not free
Himselfe, who wont the tempests curb; but he,
Who bearding
Neptune, us'd on the Ocean float,
Is now controld in
Charons little Boat.
[Page 19]The Master ranging up and down the Deck,
And wounded mortally, to him doth beck
His Mate; who hasting to his aide in vaine,
Is there together with the Master slaine;
And at once ended with him his lives date,
Proving himselfe truly the Masters Mate.
The Trumpeter, with brave reviving sound
Quickning their dying hearts, is feld to th' ground;
And as in's mouth he still the brasse did weild,
His dying breath made it a dead march yeild;
And having lent his Trumpet so much breath
In's life, it turn'd him some againe at's death.
The Drummer with his nimble hand repeating
His doubled blows, without compassion beating
His harmeles Drum, which seemd with groaning cry
To murmure at his Masters cruelty,
Oth' sudden two rash bullets rudely come,
Tearing both skin of drummer, and of Drum;
Drummer of life, of sound the Drum's bereft;
So Drum and drummer both are speechlesse left.
[Page 20]The Gunner, as with nimble hast he runs
To fire his seldome vaine-reporting Gunns;
His head a leaden winged bullet hits,
And his hard braine pan into peeces splits.
He of a thousand this alone might vaunt,
That of his death he was not ignorant:
And this true Riddle might of him abide,
He lived once by's death, by's life now dy'd.
Here comes a Captaine, with undaunted face,
Encouraging his Souldiers to the Chase;
And being about to say, he brave and bold,
An untaught bullet rudely bids him hold:
And as deaths mist in his dull eyes did wander,
Beseeching aide, he left to be Commander.
And hee whose voice from fainting thought to call them
By's dying groane doth fearfully appall them.
This Leader faithfull to his utmost breath,
Can onely now lead them the way to Death.
See how to steale the waving Flag, one climbes
Vp by the Cords; but being espied betimes
[Page 21]Tangled ith' ropes, he is of life bereft,
And so is hang'd for his intended theft:
But the cords burnt, wherein his legs were bound,
He gets a Pyrats death, both hang'd and drown'd.
Some, under hatches closed in despaire,
Moun
[...] up their foes with powder into the aire:
Which done, it seem'd a strange prodigious sight,
A troup of armed men to maske the light:
It seemed yet that they no damage meant them,
Who the next way up into Heaven sent them;
Making them flie, beyond
Daedalian skill,
In the vast aire without a winged quill;
Giving to them a strange unwonted death,
Who, having aire too much, yet wanted breath.
See, see, the lot of sad mortality;
Our chiefest helps help oft to misery.
Some men, who came secure from future harmes,
Enroll'd in well-prov'd steely-cloathed armes,
Fall by mischance into the Seas dire hand,
Whence being unarm'd they might have swom to land.
[Page 22]Their armes do sinck, and without mercy end them,
So kil'd by that which chiefly should defend them.
One, with his Musket ready to give fire,
Aimes at another adverse Musketteere;
But his Match missing flire, hee's forc'd to dye
By the others Matches true fidelity:
By which he dy'd can scarcely well be knowne,
Whether by the others Musket, or his owne.
See there a Coward, wanting heart t' abide
The daunting face of the feirce adverse side;
Slinketh behinde the netx; not caring whether,
Comes a mad shot and kills them both together.
One, seeing now his side begin to faile,
Shewes them their Colours, while himselfe looks pale.
Sure by this man some Omen ill was showne,
To keep their Colours, who could loose his owne.
Those men who chanced in the Ship to fall,
The cruell Sea was made their Buriall;
And into th' Waves without remorse were throwne:
Poor men! slain by their foes, drown'd by their owne.
[Page 23]A Fisher-man, who nigh them cut the maine,
Sitting in's Boat, was with a Bullet slaine:
And the Barque fir'd, wherein he dead did fall,
Which
gratis, burnt, gave him his Funeral.
True to thy Master, kinde boat; who with him
Didst oft in life, and now in death dost swim;
With him alive in water that didst tire
Thy wave-beat sides, dy'st now with him in fire:
Yet saile with him to
Elysium, saile the faster;
In
Charons stead that thou maist waft thy Master.
Strange boat! which thus we not amisse may call
His life, death,
Charon, and his Funerall.
One, fearing death, doth feigne to dye, and bleed;
And while he is in feigning, dyes indeed.
Another, fearing Swords, to th' Sea doth flye,
And so, for feare of death, feares not to dye.
Some fall into the Ocean stain'd with goare,
Which from their former wounds had gush'd before:
Which kil'd not them, as it from them was spil'd,
But entring into them againe, they're kil'd.
[Page 24]Here's one, about to strike his foe, doth fall
Into the Sea; before he can recall
His erring stroke, striking the Sea to stay him,
The Ocean in revenge oth' blow doth slay him.
Another, being about to strike his foe,
Looseth at once his arme, and threatning blow;
His left arme shivering, reacheth at the other,
But cut in twaine, lies with its equall brother:
Both joyn'd, though both divided, as in spight
Of death they meant to part their last good night,
By shaking hands: the miserable trunke,
As loath to part, fainting, upon them sunke.
One, seeing them together thus, might say,
There a whole body all in peices lay.
See, two with sturdy grapple striving, whether
Should overcome, both fall ith' sea together;
Embracing both, till they have lost their breath,
And seem, though foes in life, yet friends in death.
Two brothers slaine, as they together stood,
One then might swear, they were allied in blood.
[Page 25]Other two, who, so nigh resembling, were
A lov'd mistake unto the Parents deare,
Cruell death sever'd them; and that one left
Poore Parents knew, of Errour now bereft.
He left, eternall cause of griefe renewes,
Who still alive, still his dead brother shewes:
And yet to them this comfort still he gives,
Th' one cannot dye, so long as th' other lives.
The wounded Souldiers, now that all else failes,
To stop their wounds, do teare their wofull sailes.
Poore men! who, after they were overthrowne,
Had torne those wings, whereby they might have flowne
One, with his bleeding, ready to expire,
Thinkes with his blood to quench the Ship on fire;
And so in midst of flames he bleeding stands,
Tearing new wounds with his kind-cruell hands:
And griev'd to see his blood so little profit,
He oft addes teares to helpe the quenching of it;
Till at last fainting he is faine to fall
Into the Sea, which made his Funerall.
[Page 26]And bleeding in it from each mangled limbe,
He quenched it, and it extinguish'd him.
See a poore Mar'ner, both armes cut asunder,
Distracted leaps into the water, (under
Meaning to swim:) but see the wofull wretch,
With how much toile he laboureth to stretch
His raw-vein'd stumps; which for his armes before
Gush nothing now but streames of deadly goare.
Faine would he catch, t' uphold his wavering life,
Some kinde remaine o'th' Ship; but all his strife
Doth make him sooner to be out of breath,
And wanting armes he yet embraceth death.
One getteth this, by having lost his eyes,
In that he cannot see his miseries.
Anothers legs are gone, that who him sees,
Might think he did beg pardon on his knees.
What refuge now is left? when, if they shun
Th' approaching sword, into the fire they run:
Shunning the fire, they into water fall;
So no way wants a certaine Funerall.
[Page 27]Thus after strange unheard of sort they lye,
And death by many deaths makes one man dye.
The mangled Ships no longer can withstand
Th' intruding Sea, and
Mars his fiery brand;
But sinking downward, one might then have thought
Them gon t' help
Charon to waft ore his fraught.
Thus seven full houres the Sun endur'd to see
(Nor longer would) such inhumanitie.
Therefore his Horses, bathing in their foame,
With posting speed hast to their watry home;
Where yet a while they all amazed stood,
Finding, instead of Sea, a Sea of blood.
Hor. 2. od.
13.
— Sed magis
Pugnas, & exactos tyrannos
Densum humeris bibit aure vulgus.
Quid mirum? uhi illis carminibus stupens
Demittit atras bellua centiceps
Aures, & intorti capillis
Eumenidum recreantur angues.
FINIS.