160.

Of all who fince have us'd the open fea,

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 fun.
161.

But what fo long in vain, and yet unknown,
By poor mankind's benighted wit is fought,
Shall in this age to Britain first be shown,
And hence be to admiring nations taught.
162.

The ebbs of tides and their myfterious flow,
We, as arts elements, fhall understand,
And as by line upon the ocean go,

Whofe paths fhall be familiar as the land.
163.

Inftructed fhips fhall fail to quick commerce,
By which remoteft regions are ally'd;
Which makes one city of the universe;

Where fome may gain, and all may be fupply'd.
164.

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

165.

This 1 foretel from your aufpicious care,

Who great in fearch of God and nature grow;
Who beft your wife creator's praise declare,
Since beft to praise his works is beft to know.
166.

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 ufe of human-kind.

167. But

167.

But firft the toils of war we must endure,

And from the injurious Dutch redeem the feas.
War makes the valiant of his right secure,
And gives up fraud to be chaftis'd with cafe.
168.

Already were the Belgians on our coaft,
Whose fleet more mighty every day became
By late fuccefs, which they did falfly boaft,
And now by first appearing feem'd to claim.
169.

Designing, fubtle, diligent and close,

They knew to manage war with wife delay Yet all thofe arts their vanity did cross,

:

And by their pride their prudence did betray.

170.

Nor ftaid the English long; but well fupply'd,
Appear as numerous as the infulting foe:
The combat now by courage must be try'd,
And the fuccefs the braver nation fhow.

171.

There was the Plymouth fquadron now come in,
Which in the Straights laft winter was abroad;
Which twice on Bifcay's working bay had been,
And on the midland fea the French had aw'd.

172.

Old expert Allen 9, loyal all along,

Fam'd for his action on the Smyrna fleet:
And Holmes, whofe name fhall live in epic fong,
While mufic numbers, or while verfe has feet.

9 Sir Thomas Allen Admiral of the white.

173. Holmes

173.

Holmes, the Achates of the general's fight;
Who first bewitch'd our eyes with Guinea gold :
As once old Cato in the Roman fight

The tempting fruits of Afric did unfold.
174.

With him went Spragge 2, as bountiful as brave,
Whom his high courage to command had brought :
Harman, who did the twice-fir'd Harry fave,
And in his burning fhip undaunted fought.
175

Young 3 Hollis on a mufe by Mars begot,

Born, Cæfar like, to write and act great deeds: Impatient to revenge his fatal fhot,

His right hand doubly to his left fucceeds.
176.

Thousands were there in darker fame that dwell,
Whofe deeds fome nobler poem shall adorn :
And though to me unknown, they fure fought well,
Whom Rupert led, and who were British born.

177.

Of every fize an hundred fighting fail:

So vaft the navy now at anchor rides,
That underneath it the prefs'd waters fail,
And with its weight it fhoulders off the tides.

178. Now

i Holmes the Achates of the, &c. Sir Robert Holmes was rear-admiral of the white, called the Achates from his eagerness to fupport the general. Achates was the faithful companion of Æneas. For an illuftration of the two last lines of this ftanza, see our notes to the Satire on the Dutch.

2 With him went Spragge, &c. Sir Edward Spragge served under Sir Jeremiah Smith, who carried the blue flag: he was drowned paffing from one ship to another, in a fight with Van Tromp, on the eleventh of Auguft, 1672, bearing the character of a gallant officer, and an accomplished gentleman.

3 Captain Hollis, of the Antelope fhip of war, loft a hand in this memorable fight to his writings 1 confefs myfelf a franger. I be

178.

Now anchors weigh'd the feamen fhout fo fhrill,
That heaven and earth and the wide ocean rings:
A breeze from weftward waits their fails to fill,
And refts in thofe high beds his downy wings.
179.

The wary Dutch this gathering form forefaw,
And durft not bide it on the English coaft:
Behind their treacherous shallows they withdraw,
And there lay fnares to catch the British host.

180.

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

181.

Then if at laft fhe find him faft befet,

She iffues forth and runs along her loom : She joys to touch the captive in her net,

And drag the little wretch in triumph home.
182.

The Belgians hop'd, that with diforder'd hafte,
Our deep-cut keels upon the fands might run :
Or if with caution leisurely were past,

Their numerous grofs might charge us one by one. 183.

But with a fore-wind pufhing them above,

And swelling tide that heav'd them from below, O'er the blind flats our warlike fquadrons move, And with spread fails to welcome battle go.

184.

It seem'd as there the British Neptune flood,
With all his hofts of waters at command,
Beneath them to fubmit the officious flood;

And with his trident fhov'd them off the fand.

lieve it is the fame person who commanded the Cambridge under the name of Sir Fretchville Hollis, in 1672, when he was killed in another fea-fight with the Dutch,

185. To

185.

To the pale foes they fuddenly draw near,
And fummon them to unexpected fight:
They start like murderers when ghofts appear,
And draw their curtains in the dead of night.
186.

Now van to van the foremost squadrons meet,
The midmoft battles haft'ning up behind:
Who view far off the ftorm of falling fleet,
And hear their thunder rattling in the wind.
187.

At length the adverse admirals appear;

The two bold champions of each country's right: Their eyes describe the lifts as they come near, And draw the lines of death before they fight.

188.

The distance judg'd for fhot of every fize,
The linftocs touch, the ponderous ball expires:
The vigorous feaman every port-hole plies,
And adds his heart to every gun he fires!

189.

Fierce was the fight on the proud Belgians fide,
For honour, which they feldom fought before:
But now they by their own vain boafts were ty'd,
And forc'd at least in fhew to prize it more.

190.

But fharp remembrance on the English part,
And fhame of being match'd by fuch a foe,
Rouze conscious virtue up in every heart,
And feeming to be stronger makes them fo.

19r.

Nor long the Belgians could that fleet sustain,

Which did two generals fates, and Cæfar's bear: Each feveral fhip a victory did gain,

As Rupert or as Albemarle were there.

192. Their