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 valor 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 eyry 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 canvas 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
With such glad hearts did our despairing men
Salute th' appearance of the prince's fleet;
And each ambitiously would claim the ken,
That with first eyes did distant safety meet.
The Dutch, who came like greedy hinds before,
To reap the harvest their ripe ears did yield,
Now look like those, when rolling thunders roar,
And sheets of lightning blast the standing field.
Full in the prince's passage, hills of sand,
And dangerous flats, in secret ambush lay,
Where the false tides skim o'er the cover'd land,
And seamen with dissembled depths betray.
The wily Dutch, who like fall'n angels fear'd
This new Messiah's coming, there did wait,
And round the verge their braving vessels steer'd
To tempt his courage with so fair a bait.
But he unmov'd contemns their idle threat,
Secure of fame whene'er he please to fight:
His cold experience tempers all his heat,
And inbred worth doth boasting valor slight.
Heroic virtue did his actions guide,
And he the substance, not th' appearance, chose To rescue one such friend, he took more pride, Than to destroy whole thousands of such foes.
But when approach'd, in strict embraces bound,
Rupert and Albemarle together grow:
He joys to have his friend in safety found,
Which he to none but to that friend would owe.
The cheerful soldiers, with new stores supplied,
Now long to execute their spleenful will:
And, in revenge for those three days they tried,
Wish one, like Joshua's, when the Sun stood still.
Thus reinforc'd, against the adverse fleet,
Still doubling ours, brave Rupert leads the way. With the first blushes of the morn they meet, And bring night back upon the new-born day.
His presence soon blows up the kindling fight, And his loud guns speak thick like angry men : It seem'd as slaughter had been breath'd all night, And Death new-pointed his dull dart again.
The Dutch too well his mighty conduct knew, And matchless courage, since the former fight; Whose navy like a stiff-stretch'd cord did show, Till he bore in and bent them into flight.
The wind he shares, while half their fleet offends His open side, and high above him shows: Upon the rest at pleasure he descends,
And doubly harm'd he double harms bestowa.
Behind the general mends his weary pace,
And sullenly to his revenge he sails:
So glides some trodden serpent on the grass,
And long behind his wounded volume trails.
Th' increasing sound is borne to either shore,
And for their stakes the throwing nations fear:
Their passions double with the cannons' roar,
And with warm wishes each man combats there.
Plied thick and close as when the fight begun,
Their huge unwieldy navy wastes away:
So sicken waning Moons too near the Sun,
And blunt their crescents on the edge of day.
And now reduc'd on equal terms to fight,
Their ships like wasted patrimonies show; Where the thin scattering trees admit the light, And shun each other's shadows as they grow.
The warlike prince had sever'd from the rest
Two giant ships, the pride of all the main;
Which with his one so vigorously he press'd,
And flew so home they could not rise again.
Already batter'd, by his lee they lay,
Return'd, he with the fleet resolv'd to stay;
No tender thoughts of home his heart divide;
Domestic joys and cares he puts away;
[guide
For realms are households which the great must
As those who unripe veins in mines explore,
On the rich bed again the warm turf lay,
Till time digests the yet imperfect ore,
And know it will be gold another day.
So looks our monarch on this early fight,
Th' essay and rudiments of great success:
Which all-maturing Time must bring to light,
While he like Heaven does each day's labor bless.
Heaven ended not the first or second day,
Yet each was perfect to the work design'd:
God and kings work, when they their work survey,
A passive aptness in all subjects find.
In burthen'd vessels first, with speedy care,
His plenteous stores do season'd timber send:
In vain upon the passing winds they call:
The passing winds through their torn canvas play, Thither the brawny carpenters repair,
And flagging sails on heartless sailors fall.
And as the surgeons of maim'd ships attend.
With cord and canvas, from rich Hamburgh sent,
His navy's moulted wings he imps once more:
Their open'd sides receive a gloomy light,
Dreadful as day let into shades below;
Without grim Death rides barefac'd in their sight, Tall Norway fir, their masts in battle spent,
And urges entering billows as they flow.
When one dire shot, the last they could supply,
Close by the board the prince's main-mast bore:
All three now helpless by each other lie,
And this offends not, and those fear no more.
So have I seen some fearful hare maintain
A course, till tir'd before the dog she lay:
Who stretch'd behind her pants upon the plain,
Past power to kill, as she to get away.
With his loll'd tongue he faintly licks his prey;
His warm breath blows her flix up as she lies;
She, trembling, creeps upon the ground away,
And looks back to him with beseeching eyes.
The prince unjustly does his stars accuse,
Which hinder'd him to push his fortune on;
For what they to his courage did refuse,
By mortal valor never must be done.
This lucky hour the wise Batavian takes,
And warns his tatter'd fleet to follow home:
Proud to have so got off with equal stakes,
Where 'twas a triumph not to be o'ercome.
The general's force, as kept alive by fight,
Now, not oppos'd, no longer can pursue:
Lasting till Heaven had done his courage right;
When he had conquer'd he his weakness knew.
He casts a frown on the departing foe,
And sighs to see him quit the watery field:
His stern fix'd eyes no satisfaction show,
For all the glories which the fight did yield.
Though, as when fiends did miracles avow,
He stands confess'd ev'n by the boastful Dutch:
He only does his conquest disavow,
And thinks too little what they found too much.
And English oak, sprung leaks and planks, restore.
All hands employ'd, the royal work grows warm:
Like laboring bees on a long summer's day,
Some sound the trumpet for the rest to swarm,
And some on bells of tasted lilies play.
With glewy wax some new foundations lay
Of virgin-combs, which from the roof are hung
Some arm'd within doors upon duty stay,
Or tend the sick, or educate the young.
So here some pick out bullets from the sides,
Some drive old oakum through each seam and rift
Their left hand does the calking iron guide,
The rattling mallet with the right they lift.
With boiling pitch another near at hand,
From friendly Sweden brought, the seams instops: Which, well paid o'er, the salt sea waves withstand, And shakes them from the rising beak in drops.
Some the gall'd ropes with dauby marline bind,
Or sear-cloth masts with strong tarpawling coats.
To try new shrouds one mounts into the wind,
And one below their ease or stiffness notes.
Our careful monarch stands in person by,
His new-cast cannons' firmness to explore:
The strength of big-corn'd powder loves to try,
And ball and cartridge sorts for every bore.
Each day brings fresh supplies of arms and men,
And ships which all last winter were abroad;
And such as fitted since the fight had been,
Or new from stocks, were fall'n into the road.
The goodly London in her gallant trim,
The Phenix, daughter of the vanish'd old,
Like a rich bride does to the ocean swim,
And on her shadow rides in floating gold.
Her flag aloft spread ruffling to the wind,
And sanguine streamers seem the flood to fire:
The weaver, charm'd with what his loom design'd,
Goes on to sea, and knows not to retire.
With roomy decks, her guns of mighty strength,
Whose low-laid mouths each mounting billow
laves:
Deep in her draught, and warlike in her length,
She seems a sea-wasp flying on the waves.
This martial present, piously design'd,
The loyal city give their best-lov'd king:
And with a bounty ample as the wind,
Built, fitted, and maintain'd, to aid him bring.
By viewing Nature, Nature's handmaid, Art,
Makes mighty things from small beginnings grow:
Thus fishes first to shipping did impart,
Their tail the rudder, and their head the prow.
Some log perhaps upon the waters swam,
An useless drift, which, rudely cut within,
And hollow'd first, a floating trough became,
And cross some rivulet passage did begin.
In shipping such as this, the Irish kern
And untaught Indian on the stream did glide:
Ere sharp-keel'd boats to stem the flood did learn,
Or fin-like oars did spread from either side.
Add but a sail, and Saturn so appear'd,
When from lost empire he to exile went,
And with the golden age to Tyber steer'd,
Where coin and commerce first he did invent.
Rude as their ships was navigation then;
No useful compass or meridian known;
Coasting, they kept the land within their ken,
And knew no north but when the Pole-star shone.
Of all who since havé us'd the open sea,
Than the bold English none more fame have won:
Beyond the year, and out of Heaven's high way,
They make discoveries where they see no Sun.
But what so long in vain, and yet unknown,
By poor mankind's benighted wit is sought,
Shall in this age to Britain first be shown,
And hence be to admiring nations taught.
The ebbs of tides and their mysterious flow,
We, as Art's elements, shall understand,
And as by line upon the ocean go,
Whose paths shall be familiar as the land.
Instructed ships shall sail to quick commerce,
By which remotest regions are allied;
Which makes one city of the universe,
Where some may gain, and all may be supplied.
O truly royal! who behold the law
And rule of beings in your Maker's mind:
And thence, like limbecs, rich ideas draw,
To fit the levell'd use of human-kind.
But first the toils of war we must endure,
And from th' injurious Dutch redeem the seas:
War makes the valiant of his right secure,
And gives up fraud to be chastis'd with ease.
Already were the Belgians on our coast,
Whose fleet more mighty every day became
By late success, which they did falsely boast,
And now by first appearing seem'd to claim.
Designing, subtle, diligent, and close,
They knew to manage war with wise delay:
Yet all those arts their vanity did cross,
And by their pride their prudence did betray.
Nor staid the English long; but well supplied,
Appear as numerous as th' insulting foe:
The combat now by courage must be tried,
And the success the braver nation show.
There was the Plymouth squadron now come in,
Which in the Straits last winter was abroad;
Which twice on Biscay's working bay had been,
And on the midland sea the French had aw'd.
Old expert Allen, loyal all along,
Fam'd for his action on the Smyrna fleet:
And Holmes, whose name shall live in epic song,
While music numbers, or while verse has feet.
Holmes, the Achates of the general's fight;
Who first bewitch'd our eyes with Guinea gold
As once old Cato in the Roman sight
The tempting fruits of Afric did unfold.
With him went Sprag, as bountiful as brave,
Whom his high courage to command had brought:
Harman, who did the twice-fir'd Harry save,
And in his burning ship undaunted fought.
Young Hollis on a Muse by Mars begot,
Born, Cæsar-like, to write and act great deeds:
Impatient to revenge his fatal shot,
His right hand doubly to his left succeeds.
Thousands were there in darker fame that dwell,
Whose deeds some nobler poem shall adorn :
And though to me unknown, they sure fought well,
Whom Rupert led, and who were British born.
Of every size an hundred fighting sail :
So vast the navy now at anchor rides,
That underneath it the press'd waters fail,
And with its weight it shoulders off the tides.
Now, anchors weigh'd, the seamen shout so shrill,
That Heaven and Earth and the Wide Ocean
rings:
Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go,
And view the ocean leaning on the sky:
From thence our rolling neighbors we shall know, A breeze from westward waits their sails to fill,
And on the lunar world securely pry.
This I foretell from your auspicious care,
Who great in search of God and Nature grow;
Who best your wise Creator's praise declare,
Since best to praise his works is best to know.
And rests in those high beds his downy wings. The wary Dutch this gathering storm foresaw, And durst not bide it on the English coast: Behind their treacherous shallows they withdraw, And there lay snares to catch the British host.
Our greedy seamen rummage every hold,
And now no longer letted of his prey,
Smile on the booty of each wealthier chest,
He leaps up at it with enrag'd desire:
And, as the priests who with their gods make bold, O'erlooks the neighbors with a wide survey,
Take what they like, and sacrifice the rest.
But ah! how insincere are all our joys!
[stay:
Which, sent from Heaven like lightning make no
Their palling taste the journey's length destroys,
Or grief sent post o'ertakes them on the way.
Swell'd with our late successes on the foe,
Which France and Holland wanted power to cross,
We urge an unseen fate to lay us low,
And feed their envious eyes with English loss.
Each element his dread command obeys,
Who makes or ruins with a smile or frown;
Who, as by one he did our nation raise,
So now he with another pulls us down.
Yet, London, empress of the northern clime,
By an high fate thou greatly didst expire;
Great as the world's, which, at the death of Time,
Must fall, and rise a nobler frame by Fire.
As when some dire usurper Heaven provides, To scourge his country with a lawless sway; His birth, perhaps, some petty village hides, And sets his cradle out of Fortune's way:
Till, fully ripe, his swelling fate breaks out,
And hurries him to mighty mischiefs on:
His prince, surpris'd at first, no ill could doubt,
And wants the power to meet it when 'tis known.
Such was the rise of this prodigious Fire,
Which in mean buildings first obscurely bred,
From thence did soon to open streets aspire,
And straight to palaces and temples spread.
The diligence of trades and noiseful gain,
And luxury more late, asleep were laid:
All was the Night's; and in her silent reign
No sound the rest of Nature did invade.
In this deep quiet, from what source unknown,
Those seeds of Fire their fatal birth disclose;
And first few scattering sparks about were blown,
Big with the flames that to our ruin rose.
Then in some close-pent room it crept along,
And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed;
Till th' infant monster, with devouring strong,
Walk'd boldly upright with exalted head.
Now like some rich or mighty murderer,
Too great for prison, which he breaks with gold;
Who fresher for new mischiefs does appear,
And dares the world to tax him with the old:
So scapes th' insulting Fire his narrow jail, And makes small outlets into open air: There the fierce winds his tender force assail, And beat him downward to his first repair.
The winds, like crafty courtesans, withheld
His flames from burning, but to blow them more :
And every fresh attempt, he is repell'd
With faint denials weaker than before.
And nods at every house his threatening fire.
The ghosts of traitors from the bridge descend,
With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice:
About the fire into a dance they bend,
And sing their sabbath notes with feeble voice.
Our guardian angel saw them where they sate
Above the palace of our slumbering king:
He sigh'd, abandoning his charge to Fate,
And drooping, oft look'd back upon the wing.
At length the crackling noise and dreadful blaze
Call'd up some waking lover to the sight;
And long it was ere he the rest could raise,
Whose heavy eyelids yet were full of night.
The next to danger, hot pursued by Fate,
Half-cloth'd, half-naked, hastily retire:
And frighted mothers strike their breasts too late
For helpless infants left amidst the fire.
Their cries soon waken all the dwellers near; Now murmuring noises rise in every street: The more remote run stumbling with their fear, And in the dark men justle as they meet.
So weary bees in little cells repose;
But if night-robbers lift the well-stor'd hive, An humming through their waxen city grows, And out upon each other's wings they drive.
Now streets grow throng'd and busy as by day: Some run for buckets to the hallow'd quire : Some cut the pipes, and some the engines play; And some more bold mount ladders to the fire.
In vain: for from the east a Belgian wind
His hostile breath through the dry rafters sent;
The flames impell'd soon left their foes behind,
And forward with a wanton fury went.
A key of fire ran all along the shore,
And lighten'd all the river with a blaze:
The waken'd tides began again to roar,
And wondering fish in shining waters gaze.
Old father Thames rais'd up his reverend head,
But fear'd the fate of Simois would return:
Deep in his ooze he sought his sedgy bed,
And shrunk his waters back into his urn.
The Fire, meantime, walks in a broader gross;
To either hand his wings he opens wide:
He wades the streets, and straight he reaches cross,
And plays his longing flames on th' other side.
At first they warm, then scorch, and then they take; Now with long necks from side to side they feed; At length grown strong, their mother Fire forsake, And a new colony of Flames succeed.
To every nobler portion of the town
The curling billows roll their restless tide: In parties now they straggle up and down, As armies unoppos'd for prey divide.
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