The Battel at SEA.
[...]
THursday in the Morn the Ides of
May,
Recorded for ever the famous
Ninety-Two,
Brave
Russel did discern by dawn of day
The lofty Sails of
France advancing now,
All hands aloft, aloft, let
English valour shine,
Let fly a Culverine, the signal of the Line,
Let ev'ry hand supply his Gun,
Follow me, and you'll see
That the Battle will be soon begun,
&c.
Turville o'er the Main triumphant Rowld,
To meet the gallant
Russel in
Combat on the deep,
He led the noble Train of Hero's bold,
To sink the
English Admiral at his Feet
Now ev'ry valiant Mind to Victory doth aspire,
The bloudy Fight's begun, the Sea it self on Fire,
And mighty Fate stood looking on,
Whilst a Floud all of Bloud
Fill'd the Portholes of the
Royal Sun.
Sulphur, Smoak and Fire desturb'd the Air,
With
Thunder &
Wonder t'affright the
Gallie Shoar,
Their regulated Bands stood trembling near,
To see their lofty Streamers now no more:
At Six a Clock the
Red the smiling Victor led,
To give a second Blow, the fatal overthrow:
Now Death and Horror equal Reighn▪
Now they cry, Run, or Dye,
British Colours Ride the vanquish'd Main.
See they fly amaz'd through Rocks and Sands;
One danger they grasp at to shun a greater Fate▪
In vain they cry for aid to weeping Lands,
The
Nymphs &
Sea Gods mourn their lost Estate,
For evermore adieu thou Royal dazling
Sun,
From thy untimely end thy Master's Fate's begun
Enough thou mighty God of War,
Now we sing,
Bless the King,
Let us drink to ev'ry
English Tar.
Come jolly Seamen all, with
Russel go.
And sail on the Main, proud
Monsieur for to gr
[...]
And give our Enemy a second Blow,
And fight
Turville if that he dare to meet,
Come brother Tar, what chear? let each his Gun supply
And thump 'em off this year
or make Mon▪
to fly,
While we do range the Ocean round,
Day or Night we will fight,
When our Enemy is to be sound.
Let it ne'er be said that
English Boys
Should ere stay behind when our
Admiral does go
But let each honest Lad Cry with one Voice,
Brave
Russel leads us on to fight, the Foe.
We'll give them Gun for Gun, some sink & others burn,
Broadsides we'll give them too, till
Monsieur crys
Morble
[...]
De
[...]
Engletars vill kill us all,
Whilst they scower, we will pour,
Thick as Hail amongst them, Cannon Ball.
London, Printed and Soll by T. Moore. 1694.