That eunuch guardian of rich Holland's trade, Who envies us what he wants power t'enjoy; Whose noiseful valor does no foe invade,

And weak assistance will his friends destroy.

Offended that we fought without his leave,

He takes this time his secret hate to show: Which Charles does with a mind so calm receive, As one that neither seeks nor shuns his foe.

With France, to aid the Dutch, the Danes unite: France as their tyrant, Denmark as their slave. But when with one three nations join to fight,

They silently confess that one more brave.

Lewis had chas'd the English from his shore;

But Charles the French as subjects does invite: Would Heaven for each some Solomon restore, Who, by their mercy, may decide their right!

Were subjects so but only by their choice,

And not from birth did forc'd dominion take, Our prince alone would have the public voice; And all his neighbors' realms would deserts make.

He without fear a dangerous war pursues,

Which without rashness he began before: As honor made him first the danger choose, So still he makes it good on virtue's score.

The doubled charge his subjects' love supplies, Who in that bounty to themselves are kind : So glad Egyptians see their Nilus rise,

And in his plenty their abundance find.

With equal power he does two chiefs create,
Two such as each seem'd worthiest when alone;
Each able to sustain a nation's fate,

Since both had found a greater in their own.
Both great in courage, conduct, and in fame,

Yet neither envious of the other's praise; Their duty, faith, and interest too the same,

Like mighty partners equally they raise.

The prince long time had courted Fortune's love,
But once possess'd did absolutely reign:
Thus with their Amazons the heroes strove,
And conquer'd first those beauties they would gain.

The duke beheld, like Scipio, with disdain,

That Carthage, which he ruin'd, rise once more; And shook aloft the fasces of the main,

To fright those slaves with what they felt before.

Together to the watery camp they haste,

Whom matrons passing to their children show: Infants' first vows for them to Heaven are cast, And future people bless them as they go.

With them no riotous pomp, nor Asian train, To infect a navy with their gaudy fears; To make slow fights, and victories but vain: But war severely like itself appears.

Diffusive of themselves, where'er they pass,
They make that warmth in others they expect:
Their valor works like bodies on a glass,
And does its image on their men project.

Our fleet divides, and straight the Dutch appear, In number, and a fam'd commander, bold: The narrow seas can scarce their navy bear,

Or crowded vessels can their soldiers hold.

The duke, less numerons, but in courage more, On wings of all the winds to combat flies: His murdering guns a loud defiance roar,

And bloody crosses on his flag-staffs rise.

Both furl their sails, and strip them for the fight;
Their folded sheets dismiss the useless air:
Th' Elean plains could boast no nobler sight,
When struggling champions did their bodies bare.

Borne each by other in a distant line,

The sea-built forts in dreadful order move: So vast the noise, as if not fleets did join, But lands unfix'd, and floating nations strove.

Now pass'd, on either side they nimbly tack; Both strive to intercept and guide the wind: And, in its eye, more closely they come back, To finish all the deaths they left behind.

On high-rais'd decks the haughty Belgians ride,
Beneath whose shade our humble frigates go.
Such port the elephant bears, and so defied
By the rhinoceros her unequal foe.

And as the built, so different is the fight:

Their mounting shot is on our sails design'd; Deep in their hulls our deadly bullets light,

And through the yielding planks a passage find

Our dreaded admiral from far they threat,

Whose batter'd rigging their whole war receives All bare, like some old oak which tempests beat, He stands, and sees below his scatter'd leaves. Heroes of old, when wounded, shelter sought; But he who meets all danger with disdain, Ev'n in their face his ship to anchor brought, And steeple-high stood propt upon the main.

At this excess of courage, all amaz'd,

The foremost of his foes awhile withdraw: With such respect in enter'd Rome they gaz'd, Who on high chairs the godlike fathers saw.

And now, as where Patroclus' body lay,

Here Trojan chiefs advanc'd, and there the Greek · Ours o'er the duke their pious wings display,

And theirs the noblest spoils of Britain seek.

Meantime his busy mariners he hastes,

His shatter'd sails with rigging to restore; And willing pines ascend his broken masts, Whose lofty heads rise higher than before.

Straight to the Dutch he turns his dreadful prow,
More fierce th' important quarrel to decide:
Like swans, in long array his vessels show,
Whose crests advancing do the waves divide.

They charge, recharge, and all along the sea
They drive, and squander the huge Belgian fleet
Berkeley alone, who nearest danger lay,
Did a like fate with lost Creusa meet,

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.

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,

In vain upon the passing winds they call: The passing winds through their torn canvas play, And flagging sails on heartless sailors fall.

Their open'd sides receive a gloomy light,

Dreadful as day let into shades below; Without grim Death rides barefac'd in their sight, 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.

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 : Thither the brawny carpenters repair,

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:
Tall Norway fir, their masts in battle spent,
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 have 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.

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,
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.