NAUMACHIA, OR HOLLAND'S SEA-FIGHT.  Non equidem invideo.  depiction of ship 
LONDON, ¶ Printed by T. P. for Thomas Law, and William G●…rat. An. Dom. 1622.   

To the Right Honourable and Noble George Lord Gordon Son and Heir to the Right Generous and Potent, the marquis of Huntley.  
RIGHT HONOURABLE, etc. Although the obscureness both of myself and merits, may seem to breed some prejudice of boldness and presumption in me, daring thus to present myself, and a small work of mine equal in merit to myself, to you a Hero endued with no less Goodness, than greatness, of equal Virtue and Honour, Of a like Courage & Courtesy, of as much Clemency as Valour, Parallels that sieldome meet in one.  
Yet Fame the blazer of good Actions, resounding from yours, to our Coasts, the report of your Honourable Courtesy and love to good Endeavours, I have been emboldened by this small Present, to manifest the love, or rather service I own to yourself and Honourable Name; a Name no less known and renowned Abroad, than loved and honoured at Home, as terrible to foes, as gtatefull and pleasing unto friends. And although the Nobleness of your honourable and ancient Progeny with the noble and Warlike actions of your Valorous and renowned Father & Ancestors might yield to you, their generous Offspring, sufficient cause of praise & glory; yet you knowing, that the good parts of body, or prosperous casualties of good Fortune, can scarce be called or accounted our own; you I say to these have added Virtue, the beauty & strength of mind, knowing that Nobilitas sola est atque unica virtus. This hath made you Non tibi sed toti genetum te credere mundo Go on them generous Gordon, and by attaining the height of Virtue, obtain the top of honour; Be you a Gem in the Union of Great Britain, follow the footsteps of your renowned Father, and if it be possible in virtue out go him; and according to your genererous disposition accept this small Present of your humble wellwisher, the gracious acceptance of which shall stir me up to some greater endeavour whereby to eternize your Name and Virtues.  
Solaque non norint haec monumenta mori.  
Your Honours to be commanded, Abra: Holland.   


NOBILISSMO, ET GEnerosissimo Domino Georgio, comiti Ingeiensi Anagramma. 
Georgius Gordonius comes Ingeiensis,  
Egregio dignus ensi, sic Musis honor ego.   
CLare, Caledonios, Heros aucture triumphos,  
Et Scotico titulos exhibiture Polo:  
Cuius et indomitos generosi pectoris ignes,  
auxit, Hyperboreas, nix, populata plagas:  
Teque, tuumque genus claris insigne Trophoeis,  
norunt Arctophylax, plaustraque pigra gelu,  
Plaustra per vndosos numquam subitura recessus,  
dum videant vultus, sidera grata, tuos.  
Tu long is lumen tenebris, et gente remota  
Pierijs gratam das Helicona choris.  
Te Phaebumque suum putat et Caledonia Martem,  
qui fulges aequè Martis, et artis honor:  
Ergò armis te bella canant; te carmine Musae,  
qui potes et Musis et decus esse tubae:  
Andraeas Scoticis, taceatque Georgius Anglis,  
hinc Scoticis Numen, Gorgius alter erit.  
Honoris tui devotissimus. Ab: Holl.   

To the same Noble Earl, two Acrostic Stanza's.  

Glory in you is like the Sun, which gives  
Eternal splendour, yet is often hid,  
Ore-shadowed in some clime, when yet he life's  
Reviving still: the world cannot forbid  
Glory her beams; but like fires hid in night  
Express at last a more refulgent light.   

Grace then the Muses, who can give you light,  
Oblivion itself can never hide,  
Respect those Sacrifices, by whose might,  
Demigods soon are wholly Deified:  
Only give pardon to me, who can give  
Nothing else yet, to make you longer live.   
A. H.   

¶ In Honour of the Noble marquis of Huntley, and his true Generous Son, the Lord GORDON.  
THE Royal Eagle Ioves own Bird, to try  
As they report her true born Progeny,  
Ere she admit them for her own, or grace  
Them to be called of the eagle's race  
To Phoebus' rays, and the sight-dazing sky  
She exposes all her vnfleged infancy:  
And those that bear the bastard searching light  
With eyes undazled, and with nobler sight  
Can brook the judging flame, these as sure-knowne  
Indulgently she brings up for her own;  
But those whose bastard eyes cannot endure  
The piercing splendour of a light so pure,  
These as false-got the Royal foul refuses,  
And only those which she hath tried, chooses.  
Thus, Noble Lord your Father, whom of all  
We truly may the Northern Eagle call,  
So doth he soar and still aspire above  
The vulgar pitch; so for the truest jove  
Hath he in cruel wars borne venfull thunder,  
Bringing the barbarous High-land savage under:  
Wherein you his true Son he made to try  
The glorious sun of Magnanimity.  
Which you with noble mind so well endured,  
That hence your Father hath been well assured  
Of a true Son: So may both Sire and Son  
Be tried at virtues never-setting Sun.   

To my friend M. A H.  
BY this one limb, my Holland, we may see  
What thou in time at thy full growth mayst be,  
Which wit, by her own Symmetry can take,  
And thy proportion perfectly can make  
At thy Ascendant: that when thou shalt show  
Thyself; who reads thee perfectly shall know  
Those of the Muses by this little light  
Saw before other where to take thy height.  
Proceed, let not Apollo's stock decay,  
Poets and Kings are not borne every day.  
Michael Drayton.   

To his loving friend M. Abra: Holland.  
SEnd forth, young man, from Muse's womb,  
Thy other Royal births at home,  
But slowly, slowly send them forth  
Lest for their number, and their worth  
The envious hand of fates take hold,  
And crop thee; for they'll think thou'rt old,  
Ed: Cory.   

To my Brother A. H.  
AS thy first Muse doth wit and learning show,  
So let true wisdom with thy learning grow.  
Your Brother, Hen. Holl.   

¶ Amico suo Abrahamo Hollando, D. Philemonis F. in Naumachiam suam.  
NAumachiam lustrando tuam, mihi flumine visus,  
Ingenij placido deperijse tui:  
Arma virum, tabulas, galeas, & scuta per undas  
Aspicio, & mens est Carmine mersa simul.  
Emergo! & tabulas votivas dedico Musae,  
Docte Hollande tua, quae bene ficta canit.  
El: Petl.   

To my honest friend M. A. H.  
That this small piece the world should hazard first,  
Of other better work's, thy Muse hath nursed;  
To wonder I was forced, vnlesseed be done  
As a small star doth usher forth the Sun.  
I. W. I C.   

❧ A Caveat to his Muse.  

WEll Minion you'll be gadding forth then? go,  
Go, hast unto thy speedy overthrow:  
And since thou wilt not take my warning: Hence,  
Learn thy own ruin by experience.  
Alas poor Maid (if so I her may call  
Who itches to be prostitute to all  
Adulterate censures) were it not for thee  
Better, to live in sweet security  
In my small cell, than flying rashly out,  
Be whooped, and hissed, and gazed at all about  
Like a day-owle: Faith Mistress you'll be put  
One of these days to serve some drivelling slut,  
To wrap her soap in, or at least be droven  
To keep a Pie from scorching in the Oven;  
Or else exposed a laughing stock to sots,  
To cloak Tobacco, or stop Mustard pots,  
Thou wilt be graced if so thou canst but win  
To enfold Frankincense or Mackrills in,  
You deem't forsooth a matter of high worth  
To have a fame among'em: New come forth;  
And think your chief felicity is marred  
If you be not perched up in Paul's Churchyard  
Where men a fare may know you in a trice,  
By some new-fangled, brasse-cut Frontispiece.  
Such book's indeed as now-dayes can pass  
Had need to have their faces made of brass.  
Is it not then sufficient for you  
To stay at home among the residue  
Of better sisters: where my dearest Will,  
And other friends would praise and love thee still:  
Him and my other harts-halfes I account  
Entire assemblies, and think they surmount  
A Globe of addle Gallants: I aver,  
One judging Plato worth a Theatre.  
But you me thinks of all the rest should fear  
The searching rays of censure, lest you blear  
You tender fame: who can choose but disdain  
The first Minerva of an idle brain.  
Penned ere I well was past a boy, or down  
With silken moss, my maiden chin did crown.  
Black Lycophron redeemed of late by me  
From the dark grave of deep obscurity,  
And taught to stalk in English measures, dreads  
The censure of the Beast with hundred Heads,  
And keeps close home: like one from deep of night  
That cannot quickly brook the dazzling light.  
My laboured Merlin, British Lycophron,  
Still sitteth in his dreary delve alone,  
And as yet wary Prophecies, that who  
Leap intoth' world too soon, themselves undo.  
My devout Holidays yet secret lurk,  
And dare not frame themselves unto a work.  
My merry Paradoxes, still laughing sit,  
And dare not mock the world, in Public yet:  
Yea my dear Syren-twins, keep still at home  
Though almost fledged and ready now to room  
About the world: with hundred crotchets more,  
My Patromonie, Portion, wealth and store,  
Yea and these riches so contentful, I  
Would not forgo for all the Treasury  
Th' Exchequer holds) will't thou then of them all  
Dare in these times distracted clutches fall?  
Oh, 'tis a way that spoils things haply good  
When itching youngsters crop themselves i'th' bud,  
And so prove rotten before ripe, to wined,  
That they may have their names but seen in print.  
But seek not thou about the world to gad  
Before thou hast an eagle's trial had;  
Then dare to Imp thy full fledged wings and fly  
Nearer than other Muses to the sky.  
Outface the Sun, and sing such notes as may  
Approve that thou art worthy of the day.  
Great glory sure they get and  fame,  
Who to obtain a Month-enduring Name  
Make monstrous books, which did they fill the stalls,  
Yea were they piled up to the top of Paul's  
Would quickly vent, when for a month or two  
One shall not pass but he shall hear ado  
And fresh inquiries for the book; anon  
Ye shall hear faintly, This, a year agone  
Was a brave book, this was a book indeed.  
Ah hapless he who now is put to read  
The jade-tired lines. Thus both such books & makers  
Are both of same fame, and same fate partakers.  
Live for a day, and flourish, but at night,  
Like the short Roses, vanish with the light.  
But care not thou whether vain fame do give  
That thou dost now, or mayst hereafter live.  
And know that Poem's truly framed, rely  
Not on the present but posterity.  
And learned Poets think't sufficient gain  
If that they after death may but obtain  
Their Postume glories: nor think that these times  
Can rightly judge of well deserving rhymes,  
We must expect another age, for this  
Scarce knoweth whether prose or Poem ti's.  
For Poem's now admired, are only those  
Change but the words a little they are prose  
As plain as Holinshed, each feeble line,  
As foot-paced as this poor L'envoy of mine.   

But tell me when thou intoth' world art come  
How wilt thou please the multitude, when some  
Unless thou canst outbaudy Martial,  
Or loose-pened Arbiter, will stiffly call  
Thee slight and witless: did but this clew lead thee,  
The greatest Ladies than would deign to read thee  
And in their perfumed bosoms would enfold  
Thee willinger, than Chains of Pearl and Gold,  
Or Aristotle's Problems: great men would make thee  
Their near companion, and to Church would take thee.  
Instead of Psalms (if so to Church they go,  
God knows above whether they do or no.)  
Others there are whose addle empty brains  
Unless thou fill with love-sicke-puling strains  
Will prove stark made against thee: All in all  
Would have this garb: the Apprentice at his stall  
Itching would buzz upon thee: and each maid  
That fain would yet dare not profess the trade  
Because sh' has been well brought up: Infinite  
The number is will call thee Parasite  
Because thou meddlest not with any things  
Touching the State, Ambassadors or Kings,  
O such an one, say they: To these reply  
So dear I will not my repentance buy,  
Nor will I tread in such unequal measure,  
As at my danger to procure you pleasure.  
But what I can, will strive to blazon forth  
My Country's honour and my Kings: the worth  
Of any person who shall merit praise  
For such I watch and bite the frantic bays  
But the most part are such as those who vow  
That Muse is dull and dry whose crabbed brow  
Skoul's not forth Satyrs: the Mere title seen  
But of a scourge excell's the Fairy Queen.  
To these say thus: would you have me, a Muse  
So rude and unexperienced to abuse  
Her harmless quill? write satyrs? That's the work  
of brazen pens, with danger that dare jerk  
And swear their Ink from blushing: which expert  
In the bad world dare venture to insert  
Particulars which makes the world to swear  
They needs a part in wickedness must bear  
They open it so naked: such their spirit  
Caesar with them is Caesar if he merit:  
For me to satyrize from blowpoint age  
Cloistered in circuit of a college cage  
where my experience of Ill ne'er flew  
Beyond the lurching of a dish or two,  
Where sophisms miss were held crimes out of reason  
And the not capping fellow's chiefest treason,  
The greatest Libels there they hold of take  
Some cowl-slaffe show or witty Almanaka.  
And such faults as are punished by the Deans  
I know not what a state's corruption means,  
What bribery is; or what it is to wrack  
The vulgar necks, or break the commons back  
but satirists stern quill must rip up faults  
From womb of night whose acting makes the vaults  
Of Heaven blush, which in a fearful brood  
Are hatched by sin and nourtred by blood  
Headlong revenge, Extortion, Orphans cry  
Are fit for them, and fearful Lechery  
But I a Muse that drink a milder Chalice  
Shall I poor snake creep in and sting the malice  
Of crimes more fit for juvenal, or him  
That wrapped his lashes in obscure and dim  
Clouds of revenge, ashamed to tell the crimes  
Openly which were acted in those times.  
To live in Court I ne'er so high could rise  
How should I then begin to satyrize.  
Nor am I yet so wicked as to be  
Experienced in all iniquity  
Which satirists must scourge: I shall in time  
May be unto the gall of satyrs climb  
If this cannot content their quenit enquiry  
Tell'em thou hast a brazen pen, with fiery  
Full fled'gd, heart-goring wings, a stubborn pen  
Not to be spent on paper but on men  
With ink steeped full of bitter gall. Now fly  
Upon the wings of humble modesty  
And thyself happy herein understand,  
That thou must come to such a Hero's hand  
Whose only name can free thee from the hate  
Of vulgar prejudice, and vindicate  
Thee from the Lethe of oblivion. Thus  
Wishing to thee some lucky Genius  
Farewell my Muse: and think't a shame to rush  
Into the world and seen there once, to blush.     

NAUMACHIA, Or the Poetical Description of a Bloody Sea-fight.  

AS the Sun once lift up his burning Lamp  
On top of hills, and fiery steeds 'gan stamp  
Along the blew-floored sky, the Charriotier  
Made his fierce horses run a full Carreir:  
He whipped 'em on, so that their blood there shed,  
Made the clear Balcon of the East look red.  
He posted on as if he meant not stay  
To make a Summer, but a winter's day:  
Or as if he had wagered that his team,  
Sooner than wont should souse in western stream:  
The steeds themselves with speed unusual fly,  
As frighted at this sea-bred Prodigy.   

There came along cutting deep Neptune's brow,  
A misty mass, to call't I know not how:  
Whether a running Town, or waving Wood,  
Or moving Delos tumbling on the Flood,  
Which seen a fare scud on the watery way,  
Prodigious Africa seemed, or Asia.  
Who getting Neptune's Passport, came to see  
Their Sister Europe in her bravery.  
At whose approach the curled billows roar,  
And as it comes fearfully roll before.  
Th' oppressed tower-like Whales lie bellowing under,  
That Neptune seems t' usurp his brother's thunder.  
The silent Fish presaging future blood,  
Against their kind run frighted into th' mud:  
And had they wings, would from the Sea have broken,  
And but for churlish nature would have spoken  
To manifest their fear, yet what they might,  
They fled apace to shun the dreadful sight.  
And flying from the Sea in trembling shivers,  
With their thick shoals pestered the lesser rivers.  
The Ocean's King feeling such weight on's back,  
With leaning on his Trident made it crack.  
Had it not been immooveable, they say,  
The earth this time would fain have fled away.  
Th' amazed shore as the fleet near sounds,  
Almost forgot to keep's ordained bounds.  
The earth and shore so trembling, you'd ha' said,  
Fear, not enclosed winds, this Earthquake made.   

Fame with her feet on earth, and head i'th' spheres,  
With wings plumed full of wonderment and fears,  
Flies over the land, and forth her rumours blazes,  
And with increasing dire reports amazes.  
The stoutest courages still as she goes,  
She augments the power and valour of the foes.  
Tells of strange engines, instruments, and whips,  
Framed to act their cruelty, and ships  
Prodigious big, vizards, and murdering Knives,  
Butcherly mals for slaughter, Halters, Gives,  
And all the men like Giants: Thus she flies  
Increasing still the Terror, and with lies  
Makes a true fear: and ere it was well spied,  
She swears the fleet in such a place did ride.  
And all the men were landed: such a town,  
Was battered, and such a castle down.  
Another City without doubt was ta'en,  
And at the winning of it, more men slain  
Then it contained: Thus monstrous Fame doth range her,  
And maketh fear more fearful than the danger.   

And thus as Fame her flying terror doubles,  
Each diverse state is wrecked with deuers troubles.  
Great men do fear that they hereby shall fall,  
Which the poor man doth hope to rise withal.  
The peaceable do hereby fear annoyment,  
The needy Ding-thrift hereby hopes employment.  
The Coward this way feareth he shall die:  
The valiant look for immortality.  
The loving Wife doth fear her Husband's life,  
And he as much is troubled for his Wife.  
Stout old men wish that they were young again,  
Base young men wish that they in age were ta'en:  
Women for fear weep out their tender eyes,  
Dump Infants almost answer to their cries.  
In all the disagreement, which is here,  
They all agree in this, that all do fear.   

The Beacons now were fired: as if the flame  
Even here a contrarity did claim  
Against the water, whose prodigious light,  
Men feared on land, as in a stormy night  
The Sailor's fear Orion, which but seen,  
Pronounces unto Mariners, the teen  
Of angry clouds. And now those noble Spirits,  
Whose only aim is by their haughty merits  
To outlive fate, and for their Country's good  
Think it a glory to pour forth their blood,  
Meet all together, as devote to give  
Their own lives that their Countrymen may live.  
Thus in all ages, and we still may try  
Of life the worthiest, readiest are to die.  
Who hasting to their ships in speed, begin  
To show the adverse party should not win  
Without resistance, showing there were made  
Men as well to defend as to invade.  
Our Admiral breath's forth a stout Alarm,  
The adverse fleet Echoed rebounding, Arme.   

As when by sound of hollow brass, or tin  
The scattered bees, buzzing with murmurous din,  
Throng in one heap, to some well-branched tree,  
Leaving their sweet, and harmless the every;  
And so by craft betrayed, are in a trice  
Captived all in their narrow Edifice.   

Thus at their Captain's voice, the vulgar sort  
To their assigned stations resort;  
With quick confused haste the tumult's led,  
And speed, by too much speed, is hindered.   

All to their charge with trembling boldness run,  
With quaking hand one charges first his Gun,  
Another girds his threatening sword on's side;  
Some clasps their steely Helmets; shields are tied  
On trembling arms apace, that one might then  
Have thought th' had been all moving Iron men.   

And now the Martial steely-pointed staffs  
Were snatched in haste: the heavy murdering Glaves:  
Bows bend to slaughter: weighty Courtelaxe:  
And Darts Death's Harbingers; the black bill, axe.  
And other arms which before rusting stood,  
But now are brought forth to be skoured with blood.   

Our saile-winged fleet launcheth fro' th'shore now eased  
Of its dread burden, nor was th'earth more pleased  
To see from her one hideous terror passed,  
That grieved to see another come as fast.   

One might have thought the battle was begun  
To see how Neptune first was through run,  
How the stern brass his curled forehead tore,  
And trembling waves were struck by cruel oar.   

Each Fleet the Captains had divided soon,  
Into the forms of the halfe-circled Moon;  
But as their furious horns together met,  
These two halfmoons a full Moon did beget;  
Which like to that in Heaven, as it did go,  
Made the fleet waters strangely Ebb and Flow.   

Now as with proud advance they nearer came,  
Those beasts which gave the saile-ruled vessels name,  
With an aspect more grim than is their life,  
As breathing nought but bate, and baleful strife,  
Come fiercely forward all, as if from thence  
They meant to move their painted Residence.  
The Lion, Elephant, and savage Hog,  
The Libard, Tiger, Ounce, and cruel Dog  
Sternly affront each other, one might guess  
In midst of Sea a savage Wilderness,  
Wherein with admiration, one might see  
So many a fierce wild beast, so many a Tree.   

But now our valiant General traversing  
About the fleet encouraged them, rehearsing  
This speech, wherein he bravely did exhort  
To th' Fight, which ready cut th' Oration short.   

Courage brave friends, and that is all I pray,  
Strength cannot want, where Courage leads the way,  
But what need I th'undaunted hearts excite,  
Of them whose eyes me thinks already fight;  
Look as ye do, and ye shall never need  
Weapons, or hands to make your foes to bleed.  
Your looks shall strike 'em dead, and warlike sight  
Shall put your fearful enemies to flight.  
What ere ye aim at, here before you lie,  
Honour, Revenge, Spoil, Riches, Victory:  
Which if they move not, see your Native Land,  
Your Nurse, your Mother, see how she doth stand  
Afar to mark, which of you best shall render  
The Meed of Nurture, who shall best defend her,  
Them will she honour; bravely then drive back  
This vast Sea-monster, which is come to rack  
Your Nurses' entrailes, com't but once to Land,  
The very Earth will be afraid to stand  
It's cruel brunt, whither if reach it can,  
The blood and tears will make an Ocean  
Deeper than this: I see'em now repair  
(O let my Omen vanish into air.)  
Unto our Land; see how like Wolves they rage  
About the coasts, sparing nor sex, nor age.  
See how they pull strong walls of Cities down,  
Leaving the men as naked as the Town.  
They raze your sacred Temples, and not leave  
A hallowed place, where after ye may heave  
Your hands for aid to heaven: Your Altars frames,  
These wicked wretches, with profaned flames  
Sacrifice to their anger; yea they dare  
To open Ghostly Tombs, and thence lay bare  
Your Ancestors sad Coffins: whose dead ashes  
Instead of tears, their children's blood be-dashes.  
They drag our ancient Parents unto slaughter,  
Answering their dying groans with cruel laughter.  
Our younger Wives and Sisters they deflower,  
And basely make our nearest kinsmen, our  
Most hated foes; our tender infants rawle  
Scarce borne, being borne unto their funeral.  
These things, which, heaven be thanked, I but suppose,  
Unless ye help will once advance our foes.  
Say that our Navy be fare less than theirs,  
Have not great ships, amids their swift carriers  
Been stayed by little Remoraes': Then on,  
And let not this cold Element, whereon  
We are to fight, quench those courageous flames  
Which burn in every manly breast, that aims  
At immortality, but strike so stern,  
That the dumb fishes may hereafter learn  
To speak your praises, and each wave report  
Unto its neighbour, in how valiant sort  
Ye fought, till that the Ocean's utmost bound,  
And farthest Thule with your fame shall sound:  
Yea that the Sun, when he at night shall press  
This way, may go and tell th'Antipodes  
What acts he saw; nor yet of aid despair,  
The Sea itself, if need shall ask, will spare  
A thousand of his streaming arm's for you,  
All fish prove swordfish to fight for our due.  
Think for no refuge here to fly, your hand  
Not feet must bring you back again to land:  
No longer will the time with us dispense,  
What my speech wants, my sword shall recompense.   

Now 'twixt a thousand lives, a thousand death's  
Of time one little winged minute breath's  
The loud-mouthed Gun, only expects the fire,  
At touch of which, as burnt, it should expire  
It's skrieking voice, groaning that so much death  
Should be accomplished by th'infectious breath  
Of its dire mouth; Darts ready are to part  
To hide their heads in some ill fortuned heart.  
Arrows, and Muskets levelled, seem to kill,  
Before they can in act, in fiery will.  
One might have thought viewing this fearful sight,  
'Thad been the picture of a Naval Fight.   

But hark th' amazing signs of battle sound,  
Making the lands remote, and rocks rebound:  
The shrill voiced Trumpet and courageous drum,  
In barbarous language bid the foes to come.   

Death's horrid vizard now gins t' appear,  
In their pale faces; terror, and ghastly fear  
In their amazed hearts doth panting rise,  
And future blood bath's in their fiery eyes.  
Stern Cruelty advanceth in their lids,  
With headlong fury stalking in the mids:  
Apelles present here or one so skilled,  
Might have made pictures hence that would have killed.   

The thundering Ordinance now began to rend  
Th' amazed air, the flames before it sent,  
Seem lightning, and as deadly bullets fly:  
Prodigious hail seemed to pour down the sky,  
Smoke made a cloudy mist, and all together  
Seem on the sea to make tempestuous weather.   

To call for aid here, stands as much instead,  
As in that place, when from a doubtful head.  
The seven-mouthed Nilus, with a desperate shock,  
Headlong doth tumble from th' amazed rock;  
Making the people on the neighbouring shelves,  
That hearing him, they cannot hear themselves;  
Thus the fights noise made many a man to fall  
In troublous death, a silent Funeral.   

Alas those Elements which use it up hold  
Our crazy lives, with their just heat, and cold,  
Making compact our body's constitution,  
Strive now to cause it's utter dissolution  
The quick and piercing fire, as it doth burn  
Their woeful carcases, doth freezing turn  
Their minds to quaking fear, and I'll despair,  
The liquid, flitting, and all-searching air  
Admits remorseless shot, and murdering darts  
Denying breath at last to cool their hearts.  
The thievish water though it ran away  
With subtle shifts, did notwithstanding slay  
And swallow most, with a devouring flood,  
Only poor earth, stark, still, astonished stood.   

Who viewing this would not have thought a wonder  
That without rain, wind, lightning, hail, or thunder  
Or hidden shelves, or rocks sea-ambusht back  
Or any temrest, ships should suffer wrack?  
That one might here have termed it, choose you whether  
A strong Calm, or calm tempestuous wether.   

See winged arrows posting through the sky  
How quick they hast froth ' battles rage to fly   

The trembling spears, as soldiers do them shake,  
Seem at their Master's dangrs that they quake:   

The flashing swords, which sheathed once they ware,  
Seem now to fear, being unarmed and bare.   

But now each fleet, each ship with hopeful pride  
Clash altogether, furious, side to side.   

As when two winds in black tempestuous wether,  
With boisterous wings impetuous meet together  
With their untamed and resistless justle,  
Making high turrets shake, and cedars rustle,  
Where in light shirmish they remain contending,  
Till out of breath th' are fain to make an ending   

Now death's at hand, and night together keep  
Clear life, and dreadful death's black iron sleep,  
Fierce rage, sad grief, blind Fury now grow higher,  
Good cause when sense of touch and hearing nigher  
Men now with men contend, and ships with ships,  
One body 'gainst another; here one skips  
Into his enemies deck, but beaten back  
He leaps to's own, of which if so he lack,  
He falls in sea; much like a wave, whose head  
By urging winds unto the shore is led,  
And thence by breast of the oft-drowned shore  
Taking a blunt repulse, for spite doth roar,  
And staggering runs back; and is this all  
Ambition aims at, in the way to fall?   

Their tired senses laboured in such wise,  
That they grew dull with too much excercise  
Their troubled eyes, viewing such ghastly sights,  
Wished that sad darkness cancelled all their heights:  
That horrid noise the battle made, was such,  
Hearing heard nothing, ' 'cause it heard so much  
Taste is of death, rank blood pollutes the smell,  
What feeling felt they all did feel too well.  
Such a confusion racks their senses here  
Th' had Reason now to wish they senseless were.   

Grim death in purple, stalks upon the hatches,  
With pale and grisly looks see how he snatches  
Hundreds a once unto him, till the dreary  
Lean-faceed ill-favord Death of death grew weary.   

See on the sea how thousand Bodies float  
From their great ships hasting to Charon's Boat,  
Which crabbed Scholar now might think it meet  
His old-torne Boat should be new-changed a Fleet.   

The tumults noise pierced the blew-arched sky  
The crystal Aire filled with a deadly cry,  
Only in this was blest, as blows abounded,  
It could be ever cut, yet never wounded.   

The silent Earth glad that she was debarred  
From this sad Fight, yet inwardly was heard  
The dreadful strokes rebounding loud, to moon  
And Echo made her yield a hollow groan,  
But this cause chief made her most to rave,  
That to her due the sea should prove a grave.   

Never did strong-breathed Aeolus disturb  
The sea so much, When he can hardly curb  
His madding pages, when they raging muster  
To quarrel with the waves, or whistling bluster  
Among the well-set trees, and branched bowghs  
Singing through chinks of some decayed house:  
Nor stern Orion with his stormy light  
Appalling shipmen, doth so much affright  
The soon moved sea, as did this battle's noise,  
Which Neptune answered with his bellowing voice,  
Who as the Fleet's urged nearer to the strand  
Which tumbling pace, ran frighted up the sand,  
That had not bounds restrained his element,  
His watery veil had clothed the Continent.  
The fearful winds on th' Ocean durst not room,  
But lest they should be smothered kert at home.  
And there sat sighing: Clouds their rane do keep,  
Though ready at the battle's sight to weep,  
Lest their pure drops with gore-blood should be stained  
So that no winds blue, nor from heaven it reigned;  
Marvel not yet at tempests on the flood  
So many tears streamed, and such streams of blood,  
Nor without winds are waves to be admired,  
So many groans and die brea'ths expired.   

The Ocean's skaly, silent wand'ring nation  
Seeing pale armed troops invade the station  
Of their vast kingdom, down the sanguine flood  
Fearfully glide, fearing their future food.   

The tender Nymphs who with their silver feet  
Use on the plains of crisped Thetys' meet,  
Where tripping prettely th' are wont to dance  
Themselves, into a heavenly slwmbring trance  
Of sweet repose, at these in humane shocks  
With hair all torn creep into th' hollow rocks  
Where shrouded they to meditate began,  
No rock so flinty as the heart of man,  
The rocks though always struck by water's fury,  
The rocks yet patiented bear this injury;  
Yea Thetis self whose womb enriched bare  
That fearful Thunder of the Trojan war  
Stubborn Achilles, who in fight did win  
Such glory, wished that war's had never been.  
So she, with all her trembling watery peers  
Augment the brinish sea, with brinish tears.   

Ships now begin to burn, that one might see  
Neptune's and Vulcan's consangunity  
Yea now these ships, which free from water stood,  
Strangely begin to sink with humane blood,  
Which as from thence with fearful gush it ran,  
Filled up the wrinkles of the Ocean,  
Making with purpose ghastly gored hue,  
Of one Red sea which was before, now two:  
Which sea so full of Dead, it hence might come  
Well to be called, Mare Mortuum.   

The quaking ships with murmuring guns are rend,  
Whose wounded sides the gored streams do vent  
Of dead and wounded men, who lay therein,  
As if they had their Beeres or coffin's been:  
They lay therein and as the ships did go  
Seemed bloody, bloodless, dead, and moving too.   

The furious fire with flames doth undermine  
The towering Mast, made of the lofty Pine,  
So that same tree which oft hight's Nuptiall's,  
Now Cypresse-like doth burn at Funerall's.   

And eaten by the galling flames, at last  
Falls down the huge, high, heavy weighted Mast,  
And as great things are wont, fell not alone  
Killing a troop nor of its foes, but own.   

The tackle, sail's, and cables now do burn,  
And fire casts Anchors, never to return.   

About their ears the whistling bullets sung,  
And wand'ring wildfire made th' affrighted throng  
Crowd into corners speedily, and they  
That durst stand men, to senseless fire give way.   

As when with in the fat Trinacriansoile,  
Inflamed Aetna doth begin to boil,  
When naked Pyracmon, with his round-eyed fellows,  
Sweatinh heave up their huge strong-breathed bellowes,  
Thundering upon their steeled Anviles' top  
To furnish armour for their smoky shop;  
Their ponderous hammers, and redoubling, makes  
Enceladus belch out his sulphury flakes  
Of vengeful wrath, then may you see blackesmoke  
Vomiring out, wrapped, in a pitchy cloak,  
And the hard bowels of the mountain, torn  
By fettered fire, with a strange bounding borne  
Up to the cloulds, whose fearful fall to shun,  
The neighbouring people with a maz'ment, run  
To shroudin'g Dens, hiding them closely under,  
Fearing from high, and from below a thunder.   

Then did th' inhuman battle's fury rage,  
Nor could the sea th' increasing flames assuage.  
And Mars himself, in Adamantine arms,  
With a hoarse voice rores out against alarms,  
He that would now have travailed to hell,  
Might have seen weary sweeting Charon well  
In fervent labour, with his mossy oars  
Tugging pale shadows to th' ore-swarmed shores;  
Which on the banks as they lamenting crept,  
Wailing Cocytus in compassion wept.  
Acheron flowed with grief, and as they say,  
Lethe itself could never forget this day,  
The Furies whined, by Pluto's judgement cast,  
Who swore their rage was fare by men surpassed,  
One coming here might tired Clotho spy,  
How she could fierce her weary arm's apply  
To turn the wheel; and Lachesis repine  
Who swore she could not threads of mortals twine  
So fast as they were cut; you might have seen  
Atropos raging with remorseless teen  
And seeking each where for some greetty stone  
To whet her shears, whose edge was dulled grown  
With too much cutting of their fatal thread,  
Whose hapless lives this ghastful battle shed.   

Fire now and water did not each contend,  
But seem their power so mutually to lend,  
That at this time there many a one became  
Burnt in the sea and drowned in the flame.  
This one good hap to carcases did fall,  
Th' had fire to burn 'em at their funeral.  
The mangled ships not fearing to be drenched,  
Gladly take breaches, thereby to be quenched.   

But now thou Tisiphonc, infernal Muse  
Rousing thyself from Stygian sleep, peruse  
The various Images of dreary Fate  
Happening in this sad Fight, and Intimate  
Them to my mind, which well, I think, agree,  
Not with a sweet, and heavenly Muse, but thee.   

Th' Industrious Pilot sitting at the stern,  
Where in a little card, he can discern  
The vast uncertainty of Neptune's haunt  
Ruling swift ships by powerful Adamant,  
Here as he sits retired, and watchful minds  
The frequent change of two and thirty winds  
Comes an unruly shot, and him doth force  
To certain death, change his uncertain course,  
So he that want stern blasts in truce to bind,  
Can not foresee when he should lose his wind,  
From storms, and Mists of Death he could not free  
Himself, who want the Tempests curb, but he  
Who bearding Neptune, used on th' Ocean float,  
Is now controlled in Charon's little boat.   

The Master ranging up and down the Deck,  
And wounded mortally, to him doth beck  
His Mate, who hasting to his aid in vain  
Is there together with the Master slain,  
And at once ended with him his life's Date,  
Proving himself truly the Master's Mate.   

The Trumpeter, with brave reviving sound  
Quickening their dying hearts, is felled toth' ground,  
And as in's mouth he still the brass did wield,  
His dying breath made it a dead march yield,  
And having lent his Trumpet so much breath  
In's life, it turned him some again at's death.   

The Drummer with his nimble hand repeating  
His doubled blows, without compassion beating  
His harmless drum, which seemed with groaning cry  
To murmur at his Master's cruelty,  
Suddenly two rash bullets rudely come  
Tearing both skin of drumer, and the Drum,  
Drummer of life, of sound the Drum's bereft:  
So Drum, and Drummer both are speechless left.   

The Gunner as with nimble hast he runs  
To fire his seldome-vaine-reporting Guns,  
His head a leaden-winged bullet hits  
And his hard brainpan into pieces splits,  
He of a thousand this alone might vaunt,  
That of his death he was not ignorant,  
And this true riddle might of him abide,  
He lived once by's Death, by's life now died.   

Here comes a Captain, with undaunted face,  
Encouraging his soldiers to the Chase,  
And being about to say, be brave and bold,  
An untaught bullet rudely bids him hold,  
And as death's mist in his dull eyes did wander,  
Beseeching aid he left to be commander,  
And he whose voice from fainting thought to call them,  
By's dying groan doth fearfully appall them:  
This leader faithful to his utmost breath  
Can only now lead them the way to Death.   

See how to steal the waving flag, one climbs  
Up by the cards, but being espied betimes  
Tangled i'th' ropes, he is of life bereft,  
And so is hanged for his intended Theft.  
But the cords burnt wherein his legs were bound,  
He gets a Pirate's death both hanged and drowned.   

Some under hatches closed, in despair  
Mount up their foes with powder into the air,  
Which done it seemed a strange prodigious sight  
A troop of armed men to mask the light:  
It seemeth yet that they no damage meant 'em,  
Who the next way up into heaven sent 'em  
Making them fly, beyond Dae dalian skill,  
In the vast air, without a winged quill,  
Giving to them a strange unwonted death,  
Who having air too much yet wanted breath.   

See see the lot of sad Mortality,  
Our chiefest help's, help oft to Misery,  
Some men who came secure from future harms  
Enrolled in well-prooued steely clothed arms.  
Fall by mischance into the sea's dire hand,  
Whence being unarmed they might have sworn to land:  
Their arms do sink, and without mercy end 'em  
So killed by that which chief should defend 'em.   

One with his Musket ready to give fire  
Aims at another adverse Muskettier,  
But his match missing fire, he's forced to die  
By the others matches true fidelity,  
By which he died, can scarc'ly well be known,  
Whether by th' others Musket or his own.  
See there a Coward wanting heart t' abide  
The daunting face of the fierce adverse side,  
Slinketh behind the next, not caring whither,  
Comes a mad shot, and kill's 'em both together;  
Praise him in this, for though his life outdared him  
To equal th' other, yet his death compared him.  
Nevertheless if truly ye do mind him,  
As in his life, in's death he came behind him.   

One seeming now his side begin to fail  
Shows them their colours, while himself looks pale,  
Sure by this man some Omen ill was shown,  
To keep their colours, who could lose his own.   

Those men who chanced in the ships to fall  
The cruel sea was made their buirall.  
And into th' waves without remorse were thrown,  
Poor men, slain by their foes, drowned by their own.   

A Fisherman who nigh them cut the Main  
Sitting in's boat was with a bullet slain,  
And the bark fired wherein he dead did fall.  
Which gratis, burnt, gave him his Funeral  
True to thy Master, kind boat, who with him  
Didst oft in life, and now in death dost swim  
With him alive in water that didst tyre  
Thy wave-beat sides, diest now with him in fire.  
Yet me thinks thou shouldest not deserve this turn  
Who so oft plunged with him which shouldest burn,  
Yet sail with him t' Elysium, sail the faster,  
In Charon's stead that thou mayst waft thy Master,  
Strange Boat which thus we not amiss may call  
His Life, Death, Charon and his Funeral.   

A Noble man that was a Renegade,  
While he against his King doth boldly prate,  
A shot takes off his head, as if 'ttwere reason  
That he should be beheaded for his Treason.   

A base fellow while he dares complain  
And rail against his once own Sovereign,  
A true Liegeman, as he thus boldly brags,  
Striketh him up, and his vile body drags  
About the ship, and while he vainly begs,  
Remosles cutteth off his arms and legs,  
And thinking then to throw him in the tide  
he's caught upon an Anchor on the side,  
That one beholding rightly might have said,  
He justly was hanged, drawn, and quartered.   

Some fearing swords, into the sea do fly,  
And so for fear of death, fear not to die.   

Some fall into the Ocean stained with gore,  
Which from their former wounds had gushed before,  
Which killed not them, as it from them was spilled,  
But entering into them again, th' are killed.   

Heeres one about to strike, his foe doth fall  
Into the sea, before he can recall  
His erring stroke, striking the sea to stay him,  
The Ocean in revenge o'th' blow doth slay him.   

One fearing death doth fain to die and bleed,  
And while he is in feigning, dies indeed.   

Another being about to strike his foe  
Loseth at once his arm and threatening blow:  
His left arm shivering, reaches at the other,  
But cut atwaine, lies with its equal Brother,  
Both joined, though both divided, as in spite  
Of Death, they meant to part their last good-night,  
By shaking hands: the miserable trunk  
As loath to part, fainting upon them sunk.  
One seeing them together thus, might say,  
There a whole body, all in pieces lay.   

See two with sturdy grapple, striving whether  
Should overcome, both fall in sea together;  
Embracing both till they have lost their breath,  
And seem though foes in life, yet friends in death.   

Two brothers slain, as they together stood,  
One than might swear, they were allied in blood.   

Other two, who so nigh resembling, were  
A loved mistake unto the parents dear,  
(Cruel death severed them) and that one left  
Poor parents knew, of error now bereft:  
He left eternal cause of grief renews,  
Who still alive, still his dead brother shows:  
And yet to them this comfort still he gives,  
Th' one cannot die, so long as th'other lives.   

The wounded soldiers, now that all else fails,  
To stop their wounds, do tear their woeful sails:  
Poor men who after they were overthrown  
Had torn those wings, whereby they might have flown.   

One with his bleeding ready to expire,  
Thinks with his blood, to quench the ship on fire:  
And so in mids of flames he bleeding stands,  
Tearing new wounds with his kind cruel hands.  
And grieved to see his blood so little profit,  
He oft adds tears to help the quenching of it.  
Till at last fainting he is fain to fall,  
Into the sea, which made his Funeral:  
And bleeding in it from each mangled limb,  
He quenched it, and it extinguished him.   

See a poor wretch with both arms cut asunder,  
Distracted leapt into the water under  
Meaning to swim, but see the woeful wretch  
With how much toil he laboureth to stretch  
His raw-veind stumps, which for his arms before  
Gush nothing now, but streams of deadly gore:  
Feign would he catch t'uphold his wavering life  
Some kind remain o'th' ship, but all his strife  
Doth make him sooner to be out of breath,  
And wanting arms he yet embraces death.   

One getteth this, by having lost his eyes,  
In that he cannot see his miseries,  
Another's legs are gone, that who him sees  
Might think he did beg pardon on his knees.   

What refuge now is left? when if they shun  
Th'approaching sword, into the fire they run:  
Shunning the fire, they into waterfall,  
So no way wants a certain Funeral.  
Thus after strange unheard of sort they lie,  
And death, by many deaths, makes one man die.   

The mangled ships no longer can withstand  
Th'intruding sea, and Mars his fiery brand;  
But sinking downward one might then have thought  
Them gone t' help Charon to waft over his fraught.   

The conquered fleet pricked now with desperate stings  
Of horror, wish their army did of wings  
Only consist; but now as if it stood  
Tied with fast anchors to the stubborn flood  
Moves not away, but void of all instruction,  
Venture their own, to hasten the destruction  
Of their once Masters, who into corners creep,  
As among Wolves, a flock of trembling sheep.   

Much like a silly Dove, whose broken wing  
Hath tried the Talons of the airy King,  
And lieth panting on the bloody ground  
Striving to fly from's enemies rebound.  
Alas poor bird, it wants that winged oar  
Which should its wont escape to it restore:  
And so at length with silent patience crouching,  
It's made a prey to the fierce bird encroaching.  
Thus fleet and bird lie i'th' same woeful plight,  
Whose only wish is to be put to flight.   

The Sun no longer could endure to see  
'Mongst humane men such inhumanity:  
Therefore his Horses, bathing in their foam,  
With posting speed hast to their watery home.  
Where yet a while they all amazed flood,  
Finding in stead of Sea, a Sea of Blood.   
FINIS.