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191 Nor long the Belgians could that fleet sustain, Which did two generals' fates, and Cæsar's bear: Each several ship a victory did gain,

As Rupert or as Albemarle were there.

192 Their batter'd admiral too soon withdrew,
Unthank'd by ours for his unfinish'd fight;
But he the minds of his Dutch masters knew,
Who call'd that Providence which we call'd flight.

193 Never did men more joyfully obey,

Or sooner understood the sign to fly:

With such alacrity they bore away,

As if to praise them all the States stood by.

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194 O famous leader of the Belgian fleet,

Thy monument inscribed such praise shall wear,
As Varro, timely flying, once did meet,
Because he did not of his Rome despair.

195 Behold that navy, which a while before,

Provoked the tardy English close to fight,
Now draw their beaten vessels close to shore,
As larks lie, dared, to shun the hobby's flight.

196 Whoe'er would English monuments survey,
In other records may our courage know:
But let them hide the story of this day,
Whose fame was blemish'd by too base a foe.

197 Or if too busily they will inquire

Into a victory which we disdain;

Then let them know the Belgians did retire
Before the patron saint2 of injured Spain.

'Leader: ' De Ruyter.

2Patron saint: St James, on whose day the

victory was gained.

198 Repenting England this revengeful day

To Philip's manes did an offering bring:
England, which first by leading them astray,
Hatch'd up rebellion to destroy her King.

199 Our fathers bent their baneful industry,
To check a monarchy that slowly grew;
But did not France or Holland's fate foresee,
Whose rising power to swift dominion flew.

200 In fortune's empire blindly thus we go,
And wander after pathless destiny;
Whose dark resorts since prudence cannot know,
In vain it would provide for what shall be.

201 But whate'er English to the bless'd shall go, And the fourth Harry or first Orange meet; Find him disowning of a Bourbon foe,

And him detesting a Batavian fleet.

202 Now on their coasts our conquering navy rides, Waylays their merchants, and their land besets: Each day new wealth without their care provides; They lie asleep with prizes in their nets.

203 So, close behind some promontory lie

The huge leviathans to attend their prey;
And give no chase, but swallow in the fry,

Which through their gaping jaws mistake the way.

204 Nor was this all: in ports and roads remote, Destructive fires among whole fleets we send : Triumphant flames upon the water float,

And out-bound ships at home their voyage end.

205 Those various squadrons variously design'd, Each vessel freighted with a several load, Each squadron waiting for a several wind,

All find but one, to burn them in the road.

206 Some bound for Guinea, golden sand to find,
Bore all the gauds the simple natives wear;
Some for the pride of Turkish courts design'd,
For folded turbans finest Holland bear..

207 Some English wool, vex'd in a Belgian loom,
And into cloth of spungy softness made,

Did into France, or colder Denmark, doom,
To ruin with worse ware our staple trade.

208 Our greedy seamen rummage every hold,

Smile on the booty of each wealthier chest ;
And, as the priests who with their gods make bold,
Take what they like, and sacrifice the rest.

209 But ah! how insincere are all our joys!

Which, sent from heaven, like lightning make no stay;
Their palling taste the journey's length destroys,
Or grief, sent post, o'ertakes them on the way.

210 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.

211 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.

212 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!

213 As when some dire usurper 1 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.

214 Till fully ripe his swelling fate breaks out,
And hurries him to mighty mischiefs on:
His prince, surprised at first, no ill could doubt,
And wants the power to meet it when 'tis known.

215 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.

216 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.

217 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.

218 Then in some close-pent room it crept along,
And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed;
Till the infant monster, with devouring strong,
Walk'd boldly upright with exalted head.

''Usurper:' this seems a reference to Cromwell; if so, it contradicts Scott's statement quoted above in the 'Life.'

219 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 :

220 So 'scapes the 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.

221 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.

222 And now no longer letted1 of his prey,
He leaps up at it with enraged desire :
O'erlooks the neighbours with a wide survey,
And nods at every house his threatening fire.

223 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.

224 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.

225 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.

'Letted:' hindered.

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