Bellum Belgicum Secundum, OR, A POEM Attempting something on his MAJESTY'S Proceed against the DUTCH.  
O nimium dilecte Deo! cui militat aequor,  
Et conjurati veniunt ad Classica venti.  Claud. 
CAMBRIDGE, Printed by J. Field, and are to be sold by Robert Nicholson, Bookseller in Cambridge. 1665.   

Bellum Belgicum Secundum, OR, A POEM, Attempting something on his Majesty's Proceed against the DUTCH.  

I Sing (assist me Bordeaux wine) the feud  
Which Britain's glory, Holland's shame renewed.  
Ambitious thoughts the Dutchmen still possess,  
They will contest although without success.  
So mutinous Carthage oftentimes rebelled,  
So Rome her insolence as often quelled.  
England's long bloody flux at last was cured,  
The yoke removed which she so long endured;  
Lucky Rebellion had its pardon sealed,  
Our King a worse Evil never healed,  
The Church's cause he pleaded too, and won,  
Proving himself she, and his father's son,  
To Crown and Mitre were all duties paid,  
And the Fanatic spirit now was laid.  
When Injuries come Echoing to our shores,  
The troubled Ocean rages, foams and roars,  
Some cries the wind doth drown, and some the flood,  
None is distinctly heard but that of blood.  
The guilty Dutch distracted with just fears,  
Cannot stop others mouths, nor their own ears,  
Therefore prepare a war, howe'er withstood;  
And since the cause was not, they'll make it good,  
See what injustice they to England show,  
To make her Plaintiff and Defendant too.  
And shall these Corm'rants live upon our Seas?  
Shall our Fish multiply to their increase?  
Shall we by them in the same nets be caught,  
And feed their barren Country thus for nought?  
Or shall our Merchant's labour still in vain,  
When Dutchman's fraud dare intercept their gain?  
What Pirates spare, shall they rob in the strand?  
And must we suffer shipwreck thus by land?  
Ah! shall our friends, our Countrymen's dear Ghosts,  
Lie unrevenged upon Amboyna's coasts?  
From punishment to execution led,  
Traitors in this because so tortured.  
Are these returns of succour? did we thus  
Set them upon their legs to spurn at us?  
Or did our love deserve such thanks as these,  
To strike us in the strength of courtesies?  
We might survive although our trade were dead,  
But shall we let ourselves be murdered?  
Must we our fortunes and our lives surrender?  
And is our King only our Faith's Defender?  
Vain Passion! thus to moan the public weal  
That art as blind as common people's zeal,  
And can it be thou'rt deaf too? not once hear  
Of our great Fleet and greater Overseer  
Our Sovereign's gracious self? whose princely sense  
Of honour's tender as his conscience.  
Go view his Arsenal, where thou mayst see  
All the effects of Royal Industry;  
What work and what dispatch, whilst some at prow,  
Some at the Stern, some at the Hatches blow.  
Look how the Cyclops in their Aetna move,  
When they are forging thunderbolts for Jove,  
Some blow the bellows, some the iron heat,  
And others Metals on the anvil beat:  
Just so I'd said, yet they are here outdone,  
And Jove to Charles is no comparison.  
All Nations now stand and spectators are,  
Admire our Fleet, much more our Prince's care;  
A Prince, whose ease consists in action, one  
Who makes all business recreation;  
Whose speed prevents our hope, removes our fear,  
And is at sea before we know him there.  
The Heavens here with a new Beacon blaze,  
Which Holland with fresh terrors doth amaze;  
England rejoices for to see the Star,  
Since Heaven in this seems to proclaim the war.  
The Channel's destined for this scene of blood,  
On which spread out like to some mighty wood,  
The strong though wooden walls of England stand,  
Trusting next to God's arm, the Admiral's hand.  
Illustrious James, well known to foreign Lands,  
Famous on Spanish Seas, and Dunkirk Sands.  
Such a man Nations bear not till they groan,  
Whose worth till he be lost is seldom known.  
On shipboard like an Angel in his sphere,  
His Judgement as those Orbs solid and clear.  
Whose greater soul was well designed by fates,  
As fit to pull down high and mighty States;  
And what his excellence doth most enlarge  
The prudent management of his vast charge;  
His discipline so strict and so severe,  
That Venus though Sea-born cannot live there,  
No rudeness seen, nothing which goodness loathes,  
No storms provoked are by louder oaths.  
So virtuous be all actions and intents,  
Each Ship a Church more than in make presents.  
The soldiers might have man'd the Argo, all  
Are so composed like to their Admiral;  
In this they do exceed the Youths of Greece,  
That they are fetching home a richer fleece;  
Which if they do bravely bring off again,  
Heaven had Their Ship, but it shall have Our men.  
Thy help Calliope I must implore,  
To say what Holland doth so long ashore;  
I nothing hear but what the News-book tells,  
That is, where famous Rowland Pepin dwells.  
But thou knowst all the do of that Nation,  
Then deign to furnish me with a Relation.  
The English Fleet had Holland so affrighted,  
That the Dutch Provinces were scarce united;  
The people cry, they're landed; Seamen see,  
That harbour can no longer safety be.  
Their crusing Capers think it a good bout,  
If they bring in all that they carry out.  
In vain the Fleet for height De Ruyter waits,  
Who like themselves, they hear, is in the Straits.  
Opdam is either sick or so would seem,  
Therefore our Duke is forced to visit him;  
Yet the uncivil Dutch will not look out,  
As if they were all troubled with the gout;  
Let Physic this disease no longer curse,  
Since it hath now disgraced Holland far worse.  
Their Orators come back as they were sent,  
Scarce entertained with a compliment,  
The King who did before use to pretend  
Himself their servant, is not now their friend;  
Poor Holland! 'tis a sign thou art undone,  
No Nation will adore a setting Sun.  
How their lost Brandy troubles them we guess,  
Their source of valour flows from drunkenness;  
Others may trust in Oak, they in the Vine,  
Their spirits are nothing without those of wine;  
No wonder then if Eastward they bare sway,  
Bacchus we know first conquered India.  
Yet let them not think to escape their doom,  
Caesar went sober when he conquered Rome.  
Whilst then we for them at the Texel stay,  
Let us their Country and their men survey.  
Since the great Deluge did the Earth deface,  
The water kindly hid this naked place;  
For here Deucalion might have lived alone,  
The Country had not helped him to a stone.  
No tree to make a Gibbet here doth grow,  
Though the inhabitants deserve it so.  
The Government is like the people rude,  
Confusion is its best similitude.  
Hither all factions crowd, and yet are free,  
The largest conscience here hath liberty.  
One prays by's beads, another (which alas  
Is but the same) prays by the hourglass,  
A third is sainted from his ghastly face,  
Yet Brimstone hells known fuel gives that grace,  
Dippers in every corner do appear,  
'Tmay be because there is most water here.  
The land with spiders and with sects doth swarm,  
Only those poisonous creatures do less harm;  
Nor is't to schismatics unfitly given,  
It being the farthest in the world from heaven.  
The day is come, and red out of the flood,  
Rises the Sun as if he'd set in blood.  
Our Fleet into a fair halfmoon is spread,  
But such as no Eclipse e'er suffered;  
The Moon herself doth not such light dispense,  
And on the sea hath lesser influence.  
The Dutch advance in the same form made out,  
The English entertain them with a shout,  
Which makes the Welkin tremble, Enemy start,  
And through the ear does thunderclap the heart:  
Strange power of tongue! and mighty strength of breath!  
Such, could he speak, would be, the voice of death.  
Here hope and fear do vary, ne'er did we  
Ourselves so strong, our foe so potent see.  
Both terrible and numberless appear,  
Like to the rugged waves which do them bear.  
Blind fortune had she eyes might justly pause,  
There seems to be no odds, but in the Cause.  
The Battle is straight joined, the Cannons roar,  
The Ships receive some blows, the Seamen more,  
Who from their desperate wounds new courage take,  
As if the loss of blood did spirits make.  
The gazing heavens stand aloof and wonder,  
Learning from them to lighten and to thunder.  
The frighted sea under the noise doth quake.  
The neighbouring Islands round about do shake.  
Huge clouds of smoke do interrupt the light,  
Equally scattering round horror and night.  
Here water doth the leaking ship invade,  
What was before support is ruin made;  
There flames the vessel, and the men surround,  
And 'tis a happiness for to be drowned;  
Some therefore leap into a hollow wave,  
Closed, like the Ant, in a Pellucid grave;  
Some in the Funeral Bonfires stoutly burn,  
While the ship doth supply Faggot and Urn.  
Me thinks I see how the flames upward roll,  
Making the body mount after the soul;  
And lest the Conqueror should Trophies forbid,  
The fire itself doth raise a Pyramid.  
Th' English had fainted, but a nobler flame  
Inspired their souls at thought of Charles his Name,  
Who absent doth not let the Victory pause,  
Acting it like some Universal cause;  
For a firm constancy we hope in vain,  
Unless the cause which first made, do sustain.  
Here brave Prince Rupert so well known to fame,  
Does prove himself for to be still the same,  
Their idle shot he gallantly defies  
Till he come fully up, and then replies,  
Ruin attends each bullet, and not one  
But carries with it sure destruction;  
Not long ere Opdams' head does upward fly,  
His dull Dutch fancy never soared so high;  
Yet his trunk keeps the chair, so kind is fate,  
To let him die as well as live in State;  
Then down he plunges with Ship, men and all,  
And visits Pluto like a General.  
Our Duke had hitherto but little gained,  
The dubious Victory being yet maintained  
By his sole conduct; to which gentle source  
He is resolved to join his valour's force,  
When the united torrent stronger flows,  
And by an interruption fiercer grows:  
For on both sides Lords dead and wounded lie,  
Whose noble purple doth his garments die,  
Therefore he will no longer represent  
But be an army. Thousands here are sent  
Into the deep to show his pious rage,  
Death does not kill so many in an age;  
Where e'er he moves, destruction makes his way,  
And turns the Channel into a Red Sea,  
His acts would be thought miracles to the Dutch,  
Did they not exercise the sense so much.  
The Hollanders grow weary of the Fight,  
Their Wings can serve them now only for Flight;  
Thus both Fleets represent two Moons again,  
The English Crescent, and the Dutch i'th' Wain.  
Whilst others gather spoils, Great Sir, return,  
Let not your conquest without triumph mourn;  
The Vermin so dissected cannot meet,  
Nor have they would to make another Fleet;  
Their Lion will ne'er ramp it as before,  
In vain without a Forest must he roar.  
The Tempest now is o'er, the Sea is clear,  
And the Kings-fisher gins to appear,  
Our Merchants may with profit blow the main,  
And know with certainty for whom they gain.  
Charles' next to God does bear the greatest sway,  
For he makes both the Winds and Seas obey.  
Let then each Church give thanks, and every Bell,  
Ring out both England's joy, and Holland's knell.   
FINIS.