149 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.

150 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.

151 The goodly London in her gallant trim

(The Phoenix daughter of the vanish'd old), Like a rich bride does to the ocean swim,

And on her shadow rides in floating. gold.

152 Her flag aloft spread ruffling to the wind,

1

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.

153 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.

154 This martial present, piously design'd,

The loyal city give their best-loved King:
And with a bounty ample as the wind,

Built, fitted, and maintain'd, to aid him bring.

155 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.

156 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 riv 'let passage did begin.

157 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.

158 Add but a sail, and Saturn so appear'd,
When from lost empire he to exile went,
And with the golden age to Tiber steer'd,
Where coin and commerce first he did invent.

159 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.

160 Of all who since have used 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.

161 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.

162 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.

163 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.

164 Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go,
And view the ocean leaning on the sky :
From thence our rolling neighbours we shall know,
And on the lunar world securely pry.

165 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.

166 O truly royal! who behold the law

And rule of beings in your Maker's mind:
And thence, like limbecks, rich ideas draw,
To fit the levell'd use of human-kind.

167 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 chastised with ease.

168 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.

169 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.

170 Nor stay'd the English long; but, well supplied,
Appear as numerous as the insulting foe:

The combat now by courage must be tried,
And the success the braver nation show.

171 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 awed.

172 Old expert Allen,1 loyal all along,

Famed for his action on the Smyrna fleet:
And Holmes, whose name shall live in epic song,
While music numbers, or while verse has feet.

173 Holmes, the Achates2 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.

174 With him went Spragge, as bountiful as brave,
Whom his high courage to command had brought:
Harman, who did the twice-fired Harry save,
And in his burning ship undaunted fought.

175 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.

176 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.

Allen: Sir Thomas Allen, admiral of the white. Sir Robert Holmes was rear-admiral of the white.

2 The Achates: '

177 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.

178 Now anchors weigh'd, the seamen shout so shrill,
That heaven and earth and the wide ocean rings:
A breeze from westward waits their sails to fill,
And rests in those high beds his downy wings.

179 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.

180 So the false spider, when her nets are spread,
Deep ambush'd in her silent den does lie:
And feels far off the trembling of her thread,
Whose filmy cord should bind the struggling fly.

181 Then if at last she find him fast beset,

She issues forth and runs along her loom:
She joys to touch the captive in her net,
And drags the little wretch in triumph home.

182 The Belgians hoped, that, with disorder'd haste, Our deep-cut keels upon the sands might run: Or, if with caution leisurely were past,

Their numerous gross might charge us one by one.

183 But with a fore-wind pushing them above,

And swelling tide that heaved them from below, O'er the blind flats our warlike squadrons move, And with spread sails to welcome battle go.