Mr john Dryden    

ANNUS MIRABILIS: The Year of WONDERS, 1666.  
AN HISTORICAL POEM: CONTAINING The Progress and various Successes of our Naval War with Holland, under the Conduct of His Highness' Prince RUPERT, and His Grace the Duke of ALBEMARL.  
And describing THE FIRE OF LONDON.  
By JOHN DRYDEN, Esq  
, an homines latius imperare velint.  Trajan. Imperator. ad Plin. 
 Virg. 
London, Printed for Henry Herringman, at the Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange. 1667.   

TO THE METROPOLIS OF GREAT BRITAIN, The most Renowned and late Flourishing CITY of LONDON, In its REPRESENTATIVES The LORD MAYOR and Court of ALDERMEN, the SHERIFFS and COMMON COUNCIL of it.  
AS perhaps I am the first who ever presented a work of this nature to the Metropolis of any Nation, so is it likewise consonant to Justice, that he who was to give the first Example of such a Dedication should begin it with that City, which has set a pattern to all others of true Loyalty, invincible Courage and unshaken Constancy. Other Cities have been praised for the same Virtues, but I am much deceived if any have so dearly purchased their reputation; their fame has been won them by cheaper trials than an expensive, though necessary, War, a consuming Pestilence, and a more consuming Fire. To submit yourselves with that humility to the Judgements of Heaven, and at the same time to raise yourselves with that vigour above all humane Enemies; to be combated at once from above and from below, to be struck down and to triumph; I know not whether such trials have been ever paralleled in any Nation, the resolution and successes of them never can be. Never had Prince or People more mutual reason to love each other, if suffering for each other can endear affection. You have come together a pair of matchless Lovers, through many difficulties; He, through a long Exile, various traverses of Fortune, and the interposition of many Rivals, who violently ravished and withheld You from Him: And certainly you have had your share in sufferings. But Providence has cast upon you want of Trade, that you might appear bountiful to your Country's necessities; and the rest of your afflictions are not more the effects of God's displeasure, (frequent examples of them having been in the Reign of the most excellent Princes) than occasions for the manifesting of your Christian and Civil virtues. To you therefore this Year of Wonders is justly dedicated, because you have made it so. You who are to stand a wonder to all Years and Ages, and who have built yourselves an immortal Monument on your own ruins. You are now a Phoenix in her ashes, and, as far as Humanity can approach, a great Emblem of the suffering Deity. But Heaven never made so much Piety and Virtue to leave it miserable. I have heard indeed of some virtuous persons who have ended unfortunately, but never of any virtuous Nation: Providence is engaged too deeply, when the cause becomes so general. And I cannot imagine it has resolved the ruin of that people at home, which it has blessed abroad with such successes. I am therefore to conclude, that your sufferings are at an end; and that one part of my Poem has not been more an History of your destruction, than the other a Prophecy of your restoration. The accomplishment of which happiness, as it is the wish of all true Englishmen, so is by none more passionately desired then by  
The greatest of your Admirers, and most humble of your Servants, JOHN DRYDEN.   

An account of the ensuing Poem, in a LETTER to the Honourable, Sir ROBERT HOWARD.  
SIR,  
I Am so many ways obliged to you, and so little able to return your favours, that, like those who owe too much, I can only live by getting farther into your debt. You have not only been careful of my Fortune, which was the effect of your Nobleness, but you have been solicitous of my Reputation, which is that of your Kindness. It is not long since I gave you the trouble of perusing a Play for me, and now, instead of an acknowledgment, I have given you a greater, in the correction of a Poem. But since you are to bear this persecution, I will at least give you the encouragement of a Martyr, you could never suffer in a nobler cause. For I have chosen the most heroic Subject which any Poet could desire: I have taken upon me to describe the motives, the beginning, progress and successes of a most just and necessary War; in it, the care, management and prudence of our King; the conduct and valour of a Royal Admiral, and of two incomparable Generals; the invincible courage of our Captains and Sea men, and three glorious Victories, the result of all. After this I have, in the Fire, the most deplorable, but withal the greatest Argument that can be imagined: the destruction being so swift, so sudden, to vast and miserable, as nothing can parallel in Story. The former part of this Poem, relating to the War, is but a due expiation for my not serving my King and Country in it. All Gentlemen are almost obliged to it: And I know no reason we should give that advantage to the Commonalty of England to be for most in brave actions, which the Noblesse of France would never suffer in their Peasants. I should not have written this but to a Person, who has been ever forward to appear in all employments, whither his Honour and Generosity have called him. The latter part of my Poem, which describes the Fire, I owe first to the Piety and Fatherly Affection of our Monarch to his suffering Subjects; and, in the second place, to the courage, loyalty and magnanimity of the City: both which were so conspicuous, that I have wanted words to celebrate them as they deserve. I have called my Poem Historical, not Epic, though both the Actions and Actors are as much Heroic, as any Poem can contain. But since the Action is not properly one, nor that accomplished in the last successes, I have judged it too bold a Title for a few Stanza's, which are little more in number then a single Iliad, or the longest of the AEneids. For this reason, (I mean not of length, but broken action, tied too severely to the Laws of History) I am apt to agree with those who rank Lucan rather among Historians in Verse, than Epique Poets: In whose room, if I am not deceived, Silius Italicus, though a worse Writer, may more justly be admitted. I have chosen to write my Poem in Quatrains or Stanza's of four in alternate rhyme, because I have ever judged them more noble, and of greater dignity, both from the sound and number, than any other Verse in use amongst us; in which I am sure I have your approbation. The learned Languages have, certainly, a great advantage of us, in not being tied to the slavery of any Rhyme; and were less constrained in the quantity of every syllable, which they might vary with Spondaees or Dactiles, besides so many other helps of Grammatical Figures, for the lengthening or abbreviation of them, than the Modern are in the close of that one Syllable, which often confines, and more often corrupts the sense of all the rest. But in this necessity of our Rhymes, I have always found the couplet Verse most easy, (though not so proper for this occasion) for there the work is sooner at an end, every two lines concluding the labour of the Poet: but in Quattrains he is to carry it farther on; and not only so, but to bear along in his head the troublesome sense of four lines together. For those who write correctly in this kind must needs acknowledge, that the last line of the Stanza is to be considered in the composition of the first. Neither can we give our selves the liberty of making any part of a Verse for the sake of Rhyme, or concluding with a word which is not currant English, or using the variety of Female Rhymes, all which our Fathers practised; and for the Female Rhymes, they are still in use amongst other Nations: with the Italian in every line, with the Spaniard promiscuously, with the French alternately, as those who have read the Alarique, the Pucelle, or any of their latter Poems, will agree with me. And besides this, they write in Alexandrins, or Verses of six feet, such as amongst us is the old Translation of Homer, by Chapman; all which, by lengthening of their Chain, makes the sphere of their activity the larger. I have dwelled too long upon the choice of my Stanza, which you may remember is much better defended in the Preface to Gondibert, and therefore I will hasten to acquaint you with my endeavours in the writing. In general I will only say, I have never yet seen the description of any Naval Fight in the proper terms which are used at Sea; and if there be any such in another Language, as that of Lucan in the third of his Pharsalia, yet I could not prevail myself of it in the English; the terms of Arts in every tongue bearing more of the Idiom of it then any other words. We hear, indeed, among our Poets, of the thundering of Guns, the smoke, the disorder and the slaughter; but all these are common notions. And certainly as those who, in a Logical dispute, keep in general terms, would hide a fallacy, so those who do it in any Poetical description would veil their ignorance. 
Descriptas servare vices operumque colores  
Cur ego, si nequeo ignoroque, poeta salutor?  For my own part, if I had little knowledge of the Sea, yet I have thought it no shame to learn: and if I have made some few mistakes, 'tis only, as you can bear me witness, because I have wanted opportunity to correct them, the whole Poem being first written, and now sent you from a place, where I have not so much as the converse of any Seaman. Yet, though the trouble I had in writing it was great, it was more than recompensed by the pleasure; I found myself so warm in celebrating the praises of military men, two such especially as the Prince and General, that it is no wonder if they inspired me with thoughts above my ordinary level. And I am well satisfied, that as they are incomparably the best subject I have ever had, excepting only the Royal Family; so also, that this I have written of them is much better than what I have performed on any other. I have been forced to help out other Arguments, but this has been bountiful to me; they have been low and barren of praise, and I have exalted them, and made them fruitful: but here— Omnia Sponte suâ reddit justissima tellus. I have had a large, a fair and a pleasant field, so fertile, that, without my cultivating, it has given me two Harvests in a Summer, and in both oppressed the Reaper. All other greatness in subjects is only counterfeit, it will not endure the test of danger; the greatness of Arms is only real: other greatness burdens a Nation with its weight, this supports it with its strength. And as it is the happiness of the Age, so is it the peculiar goodness of the best of Kings, that we may praise his Subjects without offending him: doubtless it proceeds from a just confidence of his own virtue, which the lustre of no other can be so great as to darken in him: for the Good or the Valiant are never safely praised under a bad or a degenerate Prince. But to quia from this digression to a farther account of my Poem, I must crave leave to tell you, that as I have endeavoured to adorn it with noble thoughts, so much more to express those thoughts with elocution. The composition of all Poems is or aught to be of wit, and wit in the Poet, or wit writing, (if you will give me leave to use a Schoo● distinction) is no other than the faculty of imagination in the writer, which, like a nimble Spaniel, beats over and ranges through the field of Memory, till i● springs the Quarry it hunted after; or, without metaphor, which searches over all the memory for the species or Ideas of those things which it designs to represent▪ Wit written, is that which is well defined, the happy result of thought, or product of that imagination. But to proceed from wit in the general notion of it, to the proper wit of an Heroic or Historical Poem, I judge it chiefly to consist in the delightful imaging of persons, actions, passions, or things. 'Tis not the jerk or sting of an Epigram, nor the seeming contradiction of a poor Antithesis, (the delight of an ill judging Audience in a Play of Rhyme) nor the jingle of a more poor Paranomasia: neither is it so much the morality of a grave sentence, affected by Lucan, but more sparingly used by Virgil; but it is some lively and apt description, dressed in such colours of speech, that it sets before your eyes the absent object, as perfectly and more delightfully than nature. So then, the first happiness of the Poet's imagination is properly Invention, or finding of the thought; the second is Fancy, or the variation, driving or moulding of that thought, as the judgement represents it proper to the subject; the third is Elocution, or the Art of clothing and adorning that thought so found and varied, in apt, significant and sounding words: the quickness of the Imagination is seen in the Invention, the fertility in the Fancy, and the accuracy in the Expression. For the two first of these Ovid is famous amongst the Poets, for the latter Virgil. Ovid images more often the movements and affections of the mind, either combating between two contrary passions, or extremely discomposed by one: his words therefore are the least part of his care, for he pictures Nature in disorder, with which the study and choice of words is inconsistent. This is the proper wit of Dialogue or Discourse, and, consequently, of the Drama, where all that is said is to be supposed the effect of sudden thought; which, though it excludes not the quickness of wit in repartees, yet admits not a too curious election of words, too frequent allusions, or use of Tropes, or, in fine, any thing that shows remoteness of thought, or labour in the Writer. On the other side, Virgil speaks not so often to us in the person of another, like Ovid, but in his own, he relates almost all things as from himself, and thereby gains more liberty than the other, to express his thoughts with all the graces of elocution, to write more figuratively, and to confess, as well the labour as the force of his imagination. Though he describes his Dido well and naturally, in the violence of her passions, yet he must yield in that to the Myrrah, the Biblis, the Althaea, of Ovid; for, as great an admirer of him as I am, I must acknowledge, that, if I see not more of their Souls then I see of Dido's, at least I have a greater concernment for them: and that convinces me that Ovid has touched those tender strokes more delicately than Virgil could. But when Action or Persons are to be described, when any such Image is to beset before us, how bold, how masterly are the strokes of Virgil! we see the objects he represents us with in their native figures, in their proper motion; but we so see them, as our own eyes could never have beheld them so beautiful in themselves. We see the Soul of the Poet, like that universal one of which he speaks, informing and moving through all his pictures, Totamque infusa per artus mens agitat motem, & magno se corpore miscet; we behold him embellishing his Images, as he makes Venus breathing beauty upon her son. Aeneas.  
— lumenque juventae  
Purpureum, & laetos oculis afflârat honores:  
Quale manus addunt Ebori decus, aut ubi flavo  
Argentum, pariusve lapis circundatur auro.  
See his tempest, his Funeral sports, his Combat of Turnus and Aeneas, and in his Georgics, which I esteem the Divinest part of all this writings, the Plague, the Country, the Battle of Bulls, the labour of the Bees, and those many other excellent Images of Nature, most of which are neither great in themselves, nor have any natural ornament to bear them up: but the words wherewith he describes them are so excellent, that it might be well applied to him which was said by Ovid, Materiam superabat opus: the very sound of his words has often somewhat that is connatural to the subject, and while we read him, we sit, as in a Play, beholding the Scenes of what he represents. To perform this, he made frequent use of Tropes which you know change the nature of a known word, by applying it to some other signification: and this is it which Horace means in this Epistle to the Pisos. 
Dixeris egregie notum si callida verbum  
Reddiderit junctura novum—  But I am sensible I have presumed too far, to entertain you with a rude discourse of that Art, which you both know so well, and put into practice with so much happiness. Yet before I leave Virgil, I must own the vanity to tell you, and by you the world, that he has been my Master in this Poem: I have followed him every where, I know not with what success, but I am sure with diligence enough: my Images are many of them copied from him, and the rest are imitations of him. My expressions also are as near as the Idioms of the two Languages would admit of in translation. And this, Sir, I have done with that boldness, for which I will stand accountable to any of our little Critics, who, perhaps, are not better acquainted with him than I am. Upon your first perusal of this Poem, you have taken notice of some words which I have innovated (if it be too bold for me to say refin'd) upon his Latin; which, as I offer not to introduce into English prose, so I hope they are neither improper, nor altogether unelegant in Verse; and, in this, Horace will again defend me. 
Et nova, fictaque nuper habebunt verba fidem, si  
Graeco fonte cadant, parcè detorta—  The inference is exceeding plain; for if a Roman Poet might have liberty to coin a word, supposing only that it was derived from the Greek, we put into a Latin termination, and that he used this liberty but seldom, and with modesty: How much more justly may I challenge that privilege to do it with the same praerequisits, from the best and most judicious of Latin Writers? In some places, where either the fancy, or the words, were his, or any others, I have noted it in the Margin, that I might not seem a Plagiary: in others I have neglected it, to avoid as well the tediousness, as the affectation of doing it too often. Such descriptions or images, well wrought, which I promise not for mine, are, as I have said, the adequate delight of heroic Poesy, for they beget admiration, which is its proper object; as the images of the Burlesque, which is contrary to this, by the same reason beget laughter; for the one shows Nature beautified, as in the picture of a fair Woman, which we all admire; the other shows her deformed, as in that of a Lazar, or of a fool with distorted face and antique gestures, at which we cannot forbear to laugh, because it is a deviation from Nature. But though the same images serve equally for the Epique Poesy, and for the Historique and Panegyrique, which are branches of it, yet a several sort of Sculpture is to be used in them: if some of them are to be like those of Juvenal, Stantes in curribus Aemiliani, Heroes drawn in their triumphal Chariots, and in their full proportion; others are to be like that of Virgil, Spriantia mollius aera: there is somewhat more of softness and tenderness to be shown in them. You will soon find I write not this without concern. Some who have seen a paper of Verses which I wrote last year to her Highness the Duchess, have accused them of that only thing I could defend in them; they have said I did humi serpere, that I wanted not only height of fancy, but dignity of words to set it off; I might well answer with that of Horace, Nunc non erat his locus, I knew I addressed them to a Lady, and accordingly I affected the softness of expression, and the smoothness of measure, rather than the height of thought; and in what I did endeavour, it is no vanity to say, I have succeeded, I detest arrogance, but there is some difference betwixt that and a just defence. But I will not farther bribe your candour, or the Readers. I leave them to speak for me, and, if they can, to make out that character, not pretending to a greater, which I have given them.   

Verses to her Highness the DUCHESS, on the memorable Victory gained by the DUKE against the Hollanders, June the 3. 1665. and on Her journey afterwards into the North.  
MADAM,  
WHen, for our sakes, your Hero you resigned  
To swelling Seas, and every faithless wind;  
When you released his courage, and set free  
A valour fatal to the Enemy,  
You lodged your Countries carès within your breast;  
(The mansion where soft Love should only rest:)  
And ere our foes abroad were overcome,  
The noblest conquest you had gained at home.  
Ah, what concerns did both your Souls divide!  
Your Honour gave us what your Love denied:  
And 'twas for him much easier to subdue  
Those foes he fought with, then to part from you.  
That glorious day, which two such Navies saw,  
As each, unmatched, might to the world give Law.  
Neptune, yet doubtful whom he should obey,  
Held to them both the Trident of the Sea:  
The winds were hushed, the waves in ranks were cast,  
As awfully as when God's people past:  
Those, yet uncertain on whose sails to blow,  
These, where the wealth of Nations ought to flow.  
Then with the Duke your Highness ruled the day:  
While all the brave did his command obey.  
The fair and pious under you did pray.  
How powerful are chaste vows! the wind and tide  
You bribed to combat on the English side.  
Thus to your much loved Lord you did convey  
An unknown succour, sent the nearest way.  
New vigour to his wearied arms you brought;  
(So Moses was upheld while Israel fought.)  
While, from afar, we heard the Canon play,  
Like distant Thunder on a shiny day,  
For absent friends we were ashamed to fear,  
When we considered what you ventured there.  
Ships, Men and Arms our Country might restore,  
But such a Leader could supply no more.  
With generous thoughts of conquest he did burn,  
Yet fought not more to vanquish then return.  
Fortune and victory he did pursue,  
To bring them, as his Slaves, to wait on you.  
Thus Beauty ravished the rewards of Fame,  
And the Fair triumphed when the Brave o'rcame.  
Then, as you meant to spread another way  
By Land your Conquests far as his by Sea,  
Leaving our Southern Clime, you marched along  
The stubborn North, ten thousand Cupid's strong.  
Like Commons the Nobility resort  
In crowding heaps, to fill your moving Court:  
To welcome your approach the Vulgar run,  
Like some new envoy from the distant Sun.  
And Country Beauties by their Lovers go,  
Blessing themselves, and wondering at the show.  
So when the newborn Phoenix first is seen,  
Her feathered Subjects all adore their Queen.  
And, while she makes her progress through the East,  
From every grove her numerous train's increased:  
Each Poet of the air her glory sings,  
And round him the pleased Audience clap their wings.   

And now, Sir, 'tis time I should relieve you from the tedious length of this account. You have better and more profitable employment for your hours, and I wrong the Public to detain you longer. In conclusion, I must leave my Poem to you with all its faults, which hope to find fewer in the printing by your emendations I know you are not of the number of those, of whom the younger Pliny speaks, Nec sunt parum multi qu● carpere amicos suos judicium vocant; I am rather too secure of you on that side. Your candour in pardoning my errors may make you more remiss in correcting them; if you will not withal consider that they come into the world with your approbation, and through your hands. I beg from you the greatest favour you can confess upon an absent person, since I repose upon your management what is dearest to me, my Fame and Reputation & therefore I hope it will stir you up to make my Poem fairer by many of your blots; if not, you know the story of the Gamester who married the rich man's daughter● and when her father denied the portion, christened a the children by his surname, that if, in conclusion, the must beg, they should do so by one name, as well as by the other. But since the reproach of my faults wi●● light on you, 'tis but reason I should do you that justice to the Readers, to let them know that if there be any thing tolerable in this Poem, they owe the Argument to your choice, the writing to your encouragement, the correction to your judgement, and the care of it to your friendship, to which he must ever acknowledge himself to owe all things, who is,  
SIR, The most obedient and most faithful of your Servants, JOHN DRYDEN. From Charleton in Wiltshire, Novem. 10. 1666.   

To the Readers.  
NOtwithstanding the diligence which has been used in my absence, some faults have escaped the Press: and I have so many of my own to answer for, that I am not willing to be charged with those of the Printer. I have only noted the grossest of them, not such as by 〈…〉 have confounded the sense, but such as by mistaken words have corrupted it.   

ERRATA.  
PAge 4. line 3. for an read 〈◊〉 page 5. in the Notes, read thus, ponti armenta & magnas pascit, etc. page 8. line 2. for undertook read 〈◊〉▪ page 10. in the 〈◊〉, for nau●●agiunt est read 〈…〉 page 15. line 3. 〈◊〉 read a loud. ibid. line 10. for in distant order read in dreadful order. page 33. line 3. for own read one. ibid. line 16. read, and as the Surgeons. page 41. in the note to the second Stanza, for solisque vicis, read solisque vias. page 47. line 3. for flots read flats. page 49. line 15. for Ʋerro read Varro. page 53. line 5. for smiles read smile. ibid. line 11. for falling 〈◊〉 p●●ling. ibid. line 7. for open read tender. ibid. in the note, for accruderet read accenderet. page 63 line 2. for night has read hags.   

Imprimatur.  
Roger L'Estrange Novem. 22. 1666.   

ANNUS MIRABILIS: The YEAR of WONDERS, MDCLXVI.  

1.  
IN thriving Arts long time had Holland grown,  
Crouching at home, and cruel when abroad:  
Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own.  
Our King they courted, & our Merchants awed.   

2.  
Trade, which like blood should circularly flow,  
Stopped in their Channels, found its freedom lost:  
Thither the wealth of all the world did go,  
And seemed but shipwrecked on so base a Coast.   

3.  
For them alone the heavens had kindly heat,  

a In Eastern Quarries, etc. Precious Stones at first are Dew, condensed and ●ardea'd by the warmth of the Sun, or subterranean Fires.  In Eastern Quarries ripening precious Dew:  
For them the Idumaean Balm did sweat,  
And in hot Ceilon Spicy Forests grew.   

4.  
The Sun but seemed the labourer of their Year;  

b Each waxing, &c according to their opinion, who think that great hea● of waters under the Line is depressed into Tides by the Moon, towards the Polis.  Each waxing Moon supplied her watery store,  
To swell those Tides, which from the Line did bear  
Their brimful Vessels to the Belg'an shore.   

5.  
Thus mighty in her Ships, stood Carthage long,  
And swept the riches of the world from far;  
Yet stooped to Rome, less wealthy, but more strong:  
And this may prove our second Punic War.   

6.  
What peace can be where both to one pretend?  
(But they more diligent, and we more strong)  
Or if a peace, it soon must have an end  
For they would grow too powerful were it long.   

7.  
Behold two Nations then, engaged so far,  
That each seven years the fit must shake each Land  
Where France will side to weaken us by War,  
Who only can his vast designs withstand.   

8.  
See how he feeds th' 
c Th' Iberian, the Spaniard.  Iberian with delays,  
To render us his timely friendship vain;  
And, while his secret Soul on Flanders preys,  
He rocks the Cradle of the Babe of Spain.   

9  
Such deep designs of Empire does he lay,  
O'er them whose cause he seems to take in hand.  
And, prudently, would make them Lords at Sea,  
To whom with ease he can give Laws by Land.   

10.  
This saw our King; and long within his breast  
His pensive counsels balanced too and fro;  
He grieved the Land he freed should be oppressed,  
And he less for it then Usurpers do.   

11.  
His generous mind the fair Ideas drew  
Of Fame and Honour which in dangers lay;  
Where wealth, like fruit an precipices, grew,  
Not to be gathered but by Birds of prey.   

12.  
The loss and gain each fatally were great;  
And still his Subjects called aloud for war:  
But peaceful Kings o'er martial people set,  
Each others poise and counterbalance are.   

13.  
He, first, surveyed the charge with careful eyes,  
Which none but mighty Monarches could maintain;  
Yet judged, like vapours that from Limbecks rise,  
It would in richer showers descend again.   

14.  
At length resolved t'assert the watery Ball,  
He in himself did whole Armadoes bring:  
Him, aged Seamen might their Master call,  
And choose for General were he not their King.   

15.  
It seems as every Ship their Sovereign knows,  
His awful summons they so soon obey;  
So here the skaly Herd when 
d When Proteus blows, or Caeruleus Proteus immania pouti armenta, & magnas poscit sub gurgite Phocas. Virg.  Proteus blows,  
And so to pasture follow through the Sea.   

16.  
To see this Fleet upon the Ocean move  
Angels drew wide the Curtains of the skies:  
And Heaven, as if their wanted Lights above,  
For Tapers made two glareing Comets rise.   

17.  
Whether they unctuous Exhalations are,  
Fired by the Sun, or seeming so alone,  
Or each some more remote and slippery Star,  
Which loses footing when to Mortals shown.   

18.  
Or one that bright companion of the Sun,  
Whose glorious aspect sealed our newborn King;  
And now a round of greater years begun,  
New influence from his walks of light did bring.   

19  
Victorious York did, first, with famed success,  
To his known valour make the Dutch give place:  
Thus Heaven our Monarch's fortune did confess,  
Beginning conquest from his Royal Race.   

20.  
But since it was decreed, Auspicious King,  
In Britain's right that thou shouldst wed the Main,  
Heaven, as a gage, would cast some precious thing  
And therefore doomed that Lawson should be slain.   

21.  
Lawson amongst the foremost met his fate,  
Whom Sea-green Sirens from the Rocks lament:  
Thus as an offering for the Grecian State,  
He first was killed who first to Battle went.   

22.  

* The Admiral of Holland.  Their Chief blown up, in air, not waves expired,  
To which his pride presumed to give the Law:  
The Dutch confessed Heaven present, and retired,  
And all was Britain the wide Ocean saw.   

23.  
To nearest Ports their shattered Ships repair,  
Where by our dreadful Canon they lay awed:  
So reverently men quit the open air  
When thunder speaks the angry Gods abroad.   

24.  
And now approached their Fleet from India, fraught  
With all the riches of the rising Sun:  
And precious Sand from 
e Southern Climates, Guinny.  Southern Climates brought,  
(The fatal Regions where the War begun.) 
The attempt at Berghen.    

25.  
Like hunted Castor's, conscious of their store,  
Their waylaid wealth to Norway's coasts they bring:  
There first the North's cold bosom Spices bore,  
And Winter brooded on the Eastern Spring.   

26.  
By the rich scent we found our perfumed prey,  
Which flanked with Rocks did close in covert lie:  
And round about their murdering Canon lay,  
At once to threaten and invite the eye.   

27.  
Fiercer than Canon, and then Rocks more hard,  
The English undertook th'unequal War:  
Seven Ships alone, by which the Port is barred,  
Besiege the Indies, and all Denmark dare.   

28.  
These fight like Husbands, but like Lovers those:  
These fain would keep, and those more fain enjoy:  
And to such height their frantic passion grows,  
That what both love, both hazard to destroy.   

29.  
Amidst whole heaps of Spices lights a Ball,  
And now their Odours armed against them fly:  
Some preciously by shattered Porc'lain fall,  
And some by Aromatic splinters die.   

30.  
An though by Tempests of the prize bereft,  
In Heaven's inclemency some ease we find:  
Our foes we vanquished by our valour left,  
And only yielded to the Seas and Wind.   

31.  
Nor wholly lost we so deserved a prey;  
For storms, repenting, part of it restored:  
Which, as a tribute from the Balthick Sea,  
The British Ocean sent her mighty Lord.   

32.  
Go, Mortals, now, and vex yourselves in vain  
For wealth, which so uncertainly must come:  
When what was brought so far, and with such pain,  
Was only kept to lose it nearer home.   

33.  
The Son, who, twice three month's on th' Ocean tossed,  
Prepared to tell what he had passed before,  
Now sees, in English Ships the Holland Coast,  
And Parents arms in vain stretched from the shore.   

34.  
This careful Husband had been long away,  
Whom his chaste wife and little children mourn;  
Who on their fingers learned to tell the day  
On which their Father promised to return.   

35.  

f Such are, &c, from Petronius. Si, bene calculum ponas ubique naufragiunt est.  Such are the proud designs of human kind,  
And so we suffer Shipwreck every where!  
Alas, what Port can such a Pilot find,  
Who in the night of Fate must blindly steer!   

36.  
The undistinguished seeds of good and ill  
Heaven, in his bosom, from our knowledge hides;  
And draws them in contempt of human skill,  
Which oft, for friends, mistaken foes provides.   

37.  
Let Munster's Prelate ever be accursed,  
In whom we seek the 
g The Germane saith. Tacitus saith of them. Nullos mortalium side aut armis ante Germanos esse.  Germane faith in vain:  
Alas, that he should teach the English first  
That fraud and avarice in the Church could reign!   

38.  
Happy who never trust a Strangers will,  
Whose friendship's in his interest understood!  
Since money given but tempts him to be ill  
When power is too remote to make him good.   

39  
Till now, alone the Mighty Nations strove:  
The rest, at gaze, without the Lists did stand:  
And threatening France, placed like a painted Jove,  
Kept idle thunder in his lifted hand. 
War declared by France.    

40.  
That Eunuch Guardian of rich Hollands trade,  
Who envies us what he wants pow'r t'enjoy!  
Whose noiseful valour does no foe invade,  
And weak assistance will his friends destroy.   

41.  
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.   

42.  
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.   

43.  
Lewis had chased 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   

44.  
Were Subjects so but only buy their choice,  
And not from Birth did forced Dominion take,  
Our Prince alone would have the public voice;  
And all his Neighbours Realms would deserts make.   

45.  
He without fear a dangerous War pursues,  
Which without rashness he began before.  
As Honour made him first the danger choose,  
So still he makes it good on virtues score.   

46.  
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.   

47.  
With equal power he does two Chiefs create,  
Two such, as each seemed worthiest when alone:  
Each able to sustain a Nations fate,  
Since both had found a greater in their own. 
Prince Rupert and Duke Albemarl sent to sea.    

48.  
Both great in courage, Conduct and in Fame,  
Yet neither envious of the others praise.  
Their duty, faith, and interest too the same.  
Like mighty Partners equally they raise.   

49.  
The Prince long time had courted Fortune's love,  
But once possessed did absolutely reign;  
Thus with their Amazons the Heroes strove,  
And conquered first those Beauties they would gain.   

50.  
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.   

51.  
Together to the watery Camp they haste,  
Whom Matrons passing, to their children show  
Infants first vows for them to Heaven are cast,  
And 
h Future people, Examins infantium futurusque populus. Pl● Jun. in pan. ad Traj.  future people bless them as they go.   

52.  
With them no riotous pomp, nor Asian train,  
T' infect a Navy with their gaudy fears:  
To make flow fights, and victories but vain;  
But war; severely, like itself, appears.   

53.  
Diffusive of themselves, where e'er they pass,  
They make that warmth in others they expect  
Their valour works like bodies on a glass,  
And does its Image on their men project.   

54.  
Our Fleet divides, and strait the Dutch appear  
In number, and a famed Commander, bold:  
The Narrow Seas can scarce their Navy bear,  
Or crowded Vessels can their Soldiers hold. 
Duke of Albemarl's Battle, first day.    

55.  
The Duke, less numerous, but in courage more,  
On wings of all the winds to combat flies:  
His murdering Guns aloud defiance roar,  
And bloody Crosses on his Flag-staffs rise.   

56.  
Both furl their sails, and strip them for the fight,  
Their folded sheets dismiss the useless air:  

i Th' Elean, etc. Where the Olympic Games were celebrated.  Th' Elean Plains could boast no nobler sight,  
When struggling Champions did their bodies bare.   

57  
Born each by other in a distant Line,  
The Sea-built Forts in distant order move:  
So vast the noise, as if not Fleets did join,  

k Lands unfixed, from Virgil: Credas innare revultas Cycladas, etc.  But Lands unfixed, and floating Nations, strove.   

58.  
Now passed, 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.   

59  
On high-raised Decks the haughty Belgians ride,  
Beneath whose shade our humble Frigates go:  
Such port the Elephant bears, and so defied  
By the Rhinocero's her unequal foe.   

60.  
And as the built, so different is the fight;  
Their mounting shot is on our sails designed:  
Deep in their hulls our deadly bullets light,  
And through the yielding planks a passage find▪   

61.  
Our dreaded Admiral from far they threat,  
Whose battered rigging their whole wan receives.  
All bare, like some old Oak which tempests beat,  
He stands, and sees below his scattered leaves.   

62.  
Heroes of old, when wounded, shelter sought,  
But he, who meets all danger with disdain,  
Even in their face his ship to Anchor brought,  
And Steeple high stood propped upon the Main.   

63.  
At this excess of courage, all amazed,  
The foremost of his foes a while withdraw.  
With such respect in entered Rome they gazed,  
Who on high Chairs the Godlike Fathers saw.   

64.  
And now, as where Patroclus' body lay,  
Here Trojan Chiefs advanced, & there the Greek:  
Ours or the Duke their pious wings display,  
And theirs the noblest spoils of Britain seek.   

65.  
Mean time, his busy Mariners he hasts;  
His shattered sails with rigging to restore:  
And willing Pines ascend his broken Masts,  
Whose lofty heads rise higher than before.   

66.  
Strait 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.   

67.  
They charge, re-charge, and all along the Sea  
They drive, and squander the huge Belgian Fleet.  
Berkley alone who nearest Danger lay,  
Did a like fate with lost Creusa meet.   

68  
The night comes on, we, eager to pursue  
The Combat still, and they ashamed to leave:  
Till the last streaks of dying day withdrew,  
And doubtful Moonlight did our rage deceive.   

69.  
In th' English Fleet each ship resounds with joy,  
And loud applause of their great Lead'rs fame.  
In fiery dreams the Dutch they still destroy,  
And, slumbering, smile at the imagined flame.   

70.  
Not so the Holland Fleet, who tired and done,  
Stretched on their decks like weary Oxen lie:  
Faint sweats all down their mighty members run,  
(Vast bulks which little souls but ill supply.)   

71.  
In dreams they fearful precipices tread,  
Or, shipwrecked, labour to some distant shore:  
Or in dark Churches walk among the dead:  
They wake with horror, & dare sleep no more.   

72.  
The morn they look on with unwilling eyes,  
Till, from their Maintop, joyful news they hear  
Of ships, which by their mould bring new supplies,  
And in their colours Belgian Lions bear. 
second days Battle.    

73.  
Our watchful General had discerned, from far,  
This mighty succour which made glad the foe.  
He sighed, but, like a Father of the War,  

l His face, &c, Spem vultu simulat premit alto corde dolorem. Virg.  His face spoke hope, while deep his sorrows flow.   

74.  
His wounded men he first sends off to shore:  
(Never, till now, unwilling to obey.)  
They, not their wounds but want of strength deplore,  
And think them happy who with him can stay.   

75.  
Then, to the rest, Rejoice, (said he) to day  
In you the fortune of Great Britain lies:  
Among so brave a people you are they  
Whom Heaven has chose to fight for such a Prize.   

76.  
If number English courages could quell,  
We should at first have shunned, not met our foes;  
Whose numerous sails the fearful only tell:  
Courage from hearts, and not from numbers grows.   

77.  
He said; nor needed more to say: with haste  
To their known stations cheerfully they go:  
And all at once, disdaining to be last,  
Solicit every gale to meet the foe.   

78.  
Nor did th'encouraged Belgians long delay,  
But, bold in others, not themselves, they stood:  
So thick, our Navy scarce could sheer their way,  
But seemed to wander in a moving wood.   

79.  
Our little Fleet was now engaged so far,  
That, like the Swordfish in the Whale, they fought.  
The Combat only seemed a Civil War,  
Till through their bowels we our passage wrought.   

80.  
Never had valour, no not ours before,  
Done aught like this upon the Land or Main:  
Where not to be overcome was to do more  
Than all the Conquests former Kings did gain.   

81.  
The mighty Ghosts of our great Harry's rose,  
And armed Edward's looked, with anxious eyes,  
To see this Fleet among unequal foes,  
By which fate promised them their Charles should rise.   

82.  
Mean time the Belgians tack upon our Rear,  
And raking Chace-guns through our sterns they send:  
Close by, their Fireships, like Iackals, appear,  
Who on their Lions for the prey attend.   

83.  
Silent in smoke of Canons they come on:  
(Such vapours once did fiery Cacus hide.)  
In these the height of pleased revenge is shown,  
Who burn contented by another's side.   

84.  
Sometimes, from fight Squadrons of each Fleet,  
(Deceived themselves, or to preserve some friend)  
Two grappling Aetna's on the Ocean meet,  
And English fires with Belgian flames contend.   

85.  
Now, at each Tack, our little Fleet grows less;  
And, like maimed fowl, swim lagging on the Main.  
Their greater loss their numbers scarce confess  
While they lose cheaper than the English gain.   

86.  
Have you not seen when, whistled from the fist,  
Some Falcon stoops at what her eye designed,  
And, with her eagerness, the quarry missed,  
Strait flies at check, and eclipse it down the wind.   

87.  
The dastard Crow, that to the wood made wing,  
And sees the Groves no shelter can afford,  
With her loud Kaws her Craven kind does bring,  
Who, safe in numbers cuff the noble Bird.   

88  
Among the Dutch thus Albemarl did far:  
He could not conquer, and disdained to fly.  
Past hope of safety, 'twas his latest care,  
Like falling Cesar, decently to die.   

89.  
Yet pity did his manly spirit move  
To see those perish who so well had fought:  
And, generously, with his despair he strove,  
Resolved to live till he their safety wrought.   

90.  
Let other Muses write his prosperous fate,  
Of conquered Nations tell, and Kings restored:  
But mine shall sing of his eclipsed estate,  
Which, like the Sun's, more wonders does afford.   

91.  
He drew his mighty Frigates all before,  
On which the foe his fruitless force employs:  
His weak ones deep into his Reer he bore,  
Remote from Guns as sick men are from noise.   

92.  
His fiery Canon did their passage guide,  
And following smoke obscured them from the foe.  
Thus Israel safe from the Egyptian's pride,  
By flaming pillars, and by clouds did go.   

93.  
Elsewhere the Belgian force we did defeat,  
But here our courages did theirs subdue:  
So Xenophon once led that famed retreat,  
Which first the Asian Empire overthrew.   

94.  
The foe approached: and one, for his bold sin,  
Was sunk, (as he that touched the Ark was slain;)  
The wild waves mastered him, and sucked him in,  
And smiling Eddies dimpled on the Main.   

95.  
This seen, the rest at awful distance stood;  
As if they had been there as servants set,  
To stay, or to go on, as he thought good,  
And not pursue, but wait on his retreat.   

96.  
So Lybian Huntsmen, on some sandy plain,  
From shady coverts roused, the Lion chase:  
The Kingly beast roars out with loud disdain,  

m The simile is Virgil 's, Vestigia retro improperata refert, etc.  And slowly moves, unknowing to give place.   

97.  
But if some one approach to dare his force,  
He swings his tail, and swiftly turns him round:  
With one paw seizes on his trembling Horse,  
And with the other tears him to the ground.   

98.  
Amidst these toils succeeds the balmy night,  
Now hissing waters the quenched guns restore;  

n Weary waves, Statius Sylu. Nec trucibus fluviis idem sonus: occidit horior aeq●oris, ac tenis maria acclinata quiescunt.  And weary waves, withdrawing from the fight,  
Lie lulled and panting on the silent shore.   

99  
The Moon shone clear on the becalmed flood,  
Where, while her beams like glittering silver play,  
Upon the Deck our careful General stood,  
And deeply mused on the 
o The third of June, famous for two former Victories.  succeeding day.   

100  
That happy Sun, said he, will rise again,  
Who twice victorious did our Navy see:  
And I alone must view him rise in vain,  
Without one ray of all his Star for me.   

101.  
Yet, like an English Gen'ral will I die,  
And all the Ocean make my spacious grave.  
Women and Cowards on the Land may lie,  
The Sea's a Tomb that's proper for the brave.   

102.  
Restless he passed the remnants of the night,  
Till the fresh air proclaimed the morning nigh,  
And burning ships, the Martyrs of the fight,  
With paler fires beheld the Eastern sky.   

103.  
But now, his Stores of Ammunition spent,  
His naked valour is his only guard:  
Rare thunders are from his dumb Cannon sent,  
And solitary Guns are scarcely heard. 
Third day.    

104.  
Thus far had Fortune power, here forced to stay,  
Nor longer durst with virtue be at strife:  
This, as a Ransom Albemarl did pay  
For all the glories of so great a life.   

105.  
For now brave Rupert from afar appears,  
Whose waving Streamers the glad General knows:  
With full spread Sails his eager Navy steers,  
And every Ship in swift proportion grows.   

106.  
The anxious Prince had heard the Cannon long,  
And from that length of time dire Omens drew  
Of English overmatched, and Dutch too strong,  
Who never fought three days but to pursue.   

107.  
Then, as an Eagle, (who, with pious care,  
Was beating widely on the wing for prey)  
To her now silent Eiry does repair,  
And finds her callow Infants forced away.   

108.  
Stung with her love she stoops upon the plain,  
The broken air loud whistling as she flies:  
She stops, and listens, and shoots forth again,  
And guides her pinions by her young ones cries.   

109.  
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.   

110.  
As, in a drought, the thirsty creatures cry,  
And gape upon the gathered clouds for rain,  
And first the Martlet meets it in the sky,  
And, with wet wings, joys all the feathered train,   

111.  
With such glad hearts did our despairing men  
Salute th' appearance of the Prince's Fleet  
And each ambitiously would claim the Ken  
That with first eyes did distant safety meet.   

112.  
The Dutch, who came like greedy Hinds before,  
To reap the harvest their ripe ears did yield,  
Now look like those, when rolling thunders roar,  
And sheets of Lightning blast the standing field.   

113.  
Full in the Prince's passage, hills of sand  
And dangerous flats in secret ambush lay,  
Where the false tides skim o'er the covered Land,  
And Seamen with dissembled depths betray:   

114.  
The wily Dutch, who, like fallen Angels, feared  
This new Messiah's coming, there did wait,  
And round the verge their braving Vessels steered,  
To tempt his courage with so fair a bait.   

115.  
But he, unmoved, contemns their idle threat,  
Secure of fame when ere he please to fight:  
His cold experience tempers all his heat,  
And inbred worth does boasting valour slight.   

116.  
Heroic virtue did his actions guide,  
And he the substance not th' appearance chose:  
To rescue one such friend he took more pride  
Than to destroy whole thousands of such foes.   

117.  
But, when approached, in strict embraces bound,  
Rupert and Albemarl together grow:  
He joys to have his friend in safety found,  
Which he to none but to that friend would owe.   

118.  
The cheerful Soldiers, with new stores supplied,  
Now long to execute their spleenful will;  
And, in revenge for those three days they tried,  
Wish one, like Ioshuah's, when the Sun stood still.   

119.  
Thus reinforced, against the adverse Fleet  
Still doubling ours, brave Rupert leads the way.  
With the first blushes of the Morn they meet,  
And bring night back upon the newborn day. 
Fourth days B●ttel.    

120.  
His presence soon blows up the kindling fight,  
And his loud Guns speak thick like angry men:  
It seemed as slaughter had been breathed all night,  
And death new pointed his dull dart again.   

121.  
The Dutch, too well his mighty Conduct knew,  
And matchless Courage since the former fight:  
Whose Navy like a stiff stretched cord did show  
Till he bore in, and bend them into flight.   

122.  
The wind he shares while half their Fleet offends  
His open side, and high above him shows,  
Upon the rest at pleasure he descends,  
And, doubly harmed, he double harms bestows.   

123.  
Behind, the Gen'ral mends his weary pace,  
And sullenly to his revenge he sails:  

p So glides, &c from Virgil Quum medii nexus, extremoque 〈…〉 solvuntur; tar●osque trahit sinus ultimus orbs, etc.  So glides some trodden Serpent on the grass,  
And long behind his wounded volume trails.   

124.  
Th' increasing sound is born to either shore,  
And for their stakes the throwing Nations fear.  
Their passion, double with the Cannons roar,  
And with warm wishes each man combats there.   

125.  
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.   

126.  
And now reduced on equal terms to fight,  
Their Ships like wasted Patrimonies show:  
Where the thin scattering Trees admit the light,  
And shun each others shadows as they grow.   

127.  
The warlike Prince had severed from the rest  
Two giant ships, the pride of all the Main;  
Which, with his own, so vigorously he pressed,  
And flew so home they could not rise again.   

128.  
Already battered, 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.   

129.  
Their opened sides receive a gloomy light,  
Dreadful as day let in to shades below:  
Without, grim death rides barefaced in their sight,  
And urges ent'ring billows as they flow.   

130.  
When one dire shot, the last they could supply,  
Close by the bored the Prince's Mainmast bore:  
All three now, helpless, by each other lie,  
And this offends not, and those fear no more.   

131.  
So have I seen some fearful Hare maintain  
A Course, till tired before the Dog she lay:  
Who, stretched behind her, pants upon the plain,  
Past power to kill as she to get away.   

132.  
With his lolled tongue he faintly licks his prey,  
His warm breath blows her flux up as she lies:  
She, trembling, creeps upon the ground away,  
And looks back to him with beseeching eyes.   

133.  
The Prince unjustly does his Stars accuse,  
Which hindered him to push his fortune on:  
For what they to his courage did refuse,  
By mortal valour never must be done.   

134.  
This lucky hour the wise Batavian takes,  
And warns his tattered Fleet to follow home:  
Proud to have so got off with equal stakes,  

q From Horace: Quos opinius fallere & effugere est triumpl●us.  Where 'twas a triumph not to be overcome.   

135.  
The General's force, as kept alive by fight,  
Now, not opposed, no longer can pursue:  
Lasting till Heaven had done his courage right,  
When he had conquered he his weakness knew.   

136.  
He casts a frown on the departing foe,  
And sighs to see him quit the watery field:  
His stern fixed eyes no satisfaction show,  
For all the glories which the Fight did yield.   

137.  
Though, as when Fiends did Miracles avow,  
He stands confessed even by the boastful Dutch,  
He only does his conquest disavow,  
And thinks too little what they found too much.   

138.  
Returned, he with the Fleet resolved to stay,  
No tender thoughts of home his heart divide:  
Domestic joys and cares he puts away,  
For Realms are households which the Great must guide.   

139.  
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.   

140.  
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 days labour bless▪   

141.  
Heaven ended not the first or second day,  
Yet each was perfect to the work designed:  
God and King's work, when they their work survey▪  
And passive aptness in all subjects find.   

142.  
In burdened Vessels, first, with speedy care,  
His plenteous Stores do seasoned timber send  
Thither the brawny Carpenters repair,  
And as the Chyrurg'ons of maimed ships attend 
His Majesty repairs the Fleet.    

143.  
With Cord and Canvas from rich Hamburgh sent,  
His Navies molted wings he imps once more:  
Tall Norway Fir, their Masts in Battle spent,  
And English Oak sprung leaks and planks restore.   

144.  
All hands employed, 
r Fervet opus: the same similitude in Virgil.  the Royal work grows warm,  
Like labouring Bees on a long Summer's day,  
Some sound the Trumpet for the rest to swarm,  
And some on bells of tasted Lilies play:   

145.  
With glewy wax some new foundation lay  
Of Virgin combs, which from the roof are hung:  
Some armed within doors, upon duty stay,  
Or tend the sick, or educate the young.   

146.  
So here, some pick out bullets from the sides,  
Some drive old Okum through each seam & rift:  
Their lefthand does the Calking-iron guide,  
The rattling Mallet with the right they lift.   

147.  
With boiling Pitch another near at hand  
(From friendly Sweden brought) the seams in-stops▪  
Which well paid o'er the salt-Sea waves withstand,  
And shakes them from the rising beak in drops.   

148.  
Some the galled ropes with dawby Marling bind,  
Or cerecloth Masts with strong Tarpawling coats:  
To try new shrouds one mounts into the wind,  
And one, below, their ease or stifness notes.   

149.  
Our careful Monarch stands in Person by,  
His new-cast Canon's firmness to explore:  
The strength of big-corned powder loves to try,  
And Ball and Cartrage 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 fallen into the Road.   

151.  
The goodly London 
Loyal London described.  in her gallant trim,  
(The Phoenix daughter of the vanished 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,  
And sanguine Streamers seem the flood to fire:  
The Weaver charmed with what his Loom designed,  
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 designed,  
The Loyal City give their best-loved King:  
And with a bounty ample as the wind,  
Built, fitted and maintained 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. 
Digression concerning Shipping and Navigation.    

156.  
Some Log, perhaps, upon the waters swum  
An useless drift, which, rudely cut within,  
And hollowed, 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:  
E●e sharp-keeled Boats to stem the flood did learn,  
Or fin-like Oars did spread from either side.   

158.  
Add but a Sail, and Saturn so appeared,  
When, from lost Empire, he to Exile went,  
And with the Golden age to Tiber steered,  
Where Coin & first Commerce 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 Polestar shone.   

160.  
Of all who since have used the open Sea,  
Then▪ the bold English none more fame have won:  

s Extra anni solisque vicis. Virg.  Beyond the Year, and out of heavens highway,  
They make discoveries where they see no Sun.   

161.  
But what ●o long in vain, and yet unknown,  
By poor mankinds benighted▪ wit is ●ought,  
Shall in this Age to Britain first ●e shown,  
And hence be to admiring Nations taught▪   

162.  
The Ebbs of Tides, and their mysterious flow,  
We, as Arts Elements shall understand:  
And as by Line upon the Ocean go,  
Whose paths shall be familiar as the Land.   

163.  

t By a more exact knowledge of Longitudes.  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.  
Their, we upon our Globes 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. 
Apostrophe to the Royal Society.    

166.  
O truly Royal! who behold the Law,  
And rule of beings in your Makers mind,  
And thence, like Limbecks, 〈◊〉 Ideas draw,  
To fit the levelled use of humane 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 〈◊〉 success, which they did falsely boast,  
And now, by first appearing seemed 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 stayed the English long: but, well supplied,  
Appear as numerous as th'insulting foe.  
The Combat now by courage must be tried,  
And the success the braver Nation show.   

171.  
There was the Plymouth Squadron new 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, loyal all along,  
Famed for his action on the Smirna Fleet,  
And Holmes, whose name shall live in Epique Song,  
While Music Numbers, or while Verse has Fleet.   

173.  
Holmes, the Achates of the Generals fight,  
Who first bewitched our eyes with Guinny Gold:  
As once old Cato in the Roman's sight  
The tempting fruits of afric did unfold.   

174.  
With him went Sprag, 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, Cesar-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.   

177.  
Of every size an hundred fight Sail,  
So vast the Navy now at Anchor rides,  
That underneath it the pressed waters fail,  
And, with its weight, it shoulders off the Tides.   

178.  
Now Anchors weighed, the Seamen shout so shrill,  
That Heaven & 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 their lay snares to catch the British Host.   

180.  
So the false Spider, when her Nets are spread,  
Deep ambushed 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 disordered haste,  
Our deep-cut keels upon the sands might run:  
Or, if with caution leisurely were passed,  
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 flots our warlike Squadrons move,  
And, with spread sails, to welcome Battle go.   

184.  
It seemed as there the British Neptune stood,  
With all his host of waters at command,  
Beneath them to submit th'officious flood:  

u Levat ipse Tridenti, & vastas aperit Syrteses, etc. Virg.  And, with his Trident, shoved them off the sand.   

185.  
To the pale foes they suddenly draw near,  
And summon them to unexpected fight:  
They start like Murderers when Ghosts appear,  
And draw their Curtains in the dead of night.   

186.  
Now Van to Van the foremost Squadrons meet,  
The midmost Battles hasting up behind,  
Who view, far off, the storm of falling Sleet,  
And hear their thunder rattling in the wind. 
Second Battle.    

187.  
At length the adverse Admirals appear:  
(The two bold Champions of each Country's right)  
Their eyes describe the lists as they come near,  
And draw the lines of death before they fight.   

188.  
The distance judged for shot of every size,  
The Linstocks touch, the ponderous ball expires:  
The vigorous Seaman every porthole plies,  
And adds his heart to every Gun he fires.   

189.  
Fierce was the fight on the proud Belgians side,  
For honour, which they seldom sought before:  
But now they by their own vain boasts were tied,  
And forced, at least in show, to prise it more.   

190.  
But sharp remembrance on the English part,  
And shame of being matched by such a foe:  
Rouse conscious virtue up in every heart,  

w Peasant quia p●sse videntur. 〈◊〉  And seeming to be stronger makes them so.   

191.  
Nor long the Belgians could that Fleet sustain,  
Which did two Generals fates, and Cesar's bear.  
Each several Ship a victory did gain,  
As Rupert or as Albemarl were there.   

192.  
Their battered Admiral too soon withdrew,  
Unthanked by ours for his unfinished fight:  
But he the minds of his Dutch Masters knew,  
Who called that providence which we called flight.   

193.  
Never did men more joyfully obey,  
Or sooner understood the sign to fly:  
With such alacrity they bore away,  
As if to praise them all the States stood by.   

194.  
O famous Leader of the Belgian Fleet,  
Thy Monument inscribed such praise shall wear  
As Ʋerro, timely flying, once did meet,  
Because he did not of his Rome despair.   

195.  
Behold that Navy which a while before  
Provoked the tardy English to the fight,  
Now draw their beaten vessels close to shore,  
As Larks lie dared to shun the Hobbies flight.   

196.  
Who ere would English Monuments survey,  
In other records may our courage know:  
But let them hide the story of this day,  
Whose fame was blemished by too base a foe.   

197.  
Or if too busily they will inquire  
Into a victory which we disdain:  
Then let them know, the Belgians did retire  

x Patron Saint: St. James, on whose day this victory was gained.  Before the Patron Saint of injured Spain.   

198.  
Repenting England this revengeful day  

y Philip's Manes: Philip the second, of Spain, against whom the Hollanders rebelling, were aided by Queen Elizabeth.  To Philip's Manes did an offering bring.  
England, which first, by leading them astray,  
Hatched up Rebellion to destroy her King.   

199.  
Our Fathers bend their baneful industry  
To check a Monarchy that slowly grew:  
But did not France or Holland's fate foresee,  
Whose rising power to swift Dominion flew.   

200.  
In fortune's Empire blindly thus we go,  
And wander after pathless destiny:  
Whose dark resorts since prudence cannot know.  
In vain it would provide for what shall be.   

201.  
But what ere English to the blessed shall go,  
And the fourth Harry or first Orange meet:  
Find him disowning of a Bourbon foe,  
And him detesting a Batavian Fleet.   

202.  
Now on their coasts our conquering Navy rides,  
waylays their Merchants, and their Land besets▪  
Each day new wealth without their care provides,  
They lie asleep with prizes in their nets.   

203.  
So, close behind ●ome Promontory lie  
The huge Leviathans t' attend their prey:  
And give no chase, but swallow in the fry,  
Which through their gaping jaws mistake the way.   

204.  
Nor was this all: in Ports and Roads remote,  
Destructive Fires among whole Fleets we send:  
Triumphant flames upon the water float,  
And out-bound ships at home their voyage end. 
Burning of the Fleet in the Vly by Sir Robert Holmes.    

205.  
Those various Squadrons, variously designed,  
Each vessel freighted with a several load:  
Each Squadron waiting for a several wind,  
All find but one, to burn them in the Road.   

206.  
Some bound for Guinny, golden sand to find,  
Bore all the gauds the simple Natives wear:  
Some for the pride of Turkish Courts designed,  
For folded Turbans finest Holland bear.   

207.  
Some English Wool, vexed in a Belgian Loom,  
And into Cloth of spongy softness made:  
Did into France or colder De●mark doom,  
To ruin with worse ware our staple Trade.   

208.  
Our greedy Seamen rummage every hold,  
Smiles on the booty of each wealthier Chest:  
And, as the Priests who with their gods make bold,  
Take what they like, and sacrifice the rest.   

209.  
But ha! ●how, unsincere are all our joys!  
Which, sent from Heaven, like Lightning make no stay:  
Their falling taste the journey's length destroys,  
Or grief, sent post, o'rtakes them on the way. 
Transitum to the Fire of London.    

210.  
Swelled with our late successes on the Foe,  
Which France and Holland wanted power to cross:  
We urge an unseen Fate to lay us low,  
And feed their envious eyes with English loss.   

211.  
Each Element his dread command obeys,  
Who makes or ruins with a smile or frown;  
Who as by one he did our Nation raise,  
So now he with another pulls us down.   

212.  
Yet, London, Empress of the Northern Clime,  
By an high fate thou greatly didst expire;  

z Quum mare quum tellus correptaque regia Coeli, ardeat, etc. Ovid.  Great as the worlds, which at the death of time  
Must fall, and rise a nobler frame by fire.   

213.  
As when some dire Usurper Heaven provides,  
To scourge his Country with a lawless sway:  
His birth, perhaps, some petty Village hides,  
And sets his Cradle out of Fortune's way:   

214.  
Till fully ripe his swelling fate breaks out,  
And hurries him to mighty mischiefs on:  
His Prince surprised at first, no ill could doubt,  
And wants the power to meet it when 'tis known.   

215.  
Such was the rise of this prodigious fire,  
Which in mean buildings first obscurely bred,  
From thence did soon to open streets aspire,  
And strait to Palaces and Temples spread.   

216.  
The diligence of Trades and noiseful gain,  
And luxury, more late, asleep were laid:  
All was the nights, and in her silent reign,  
No sound the rest of Nature did invade.   

217.  
In this deep quiet, from what scource unknown,  
Those seeds of fire their fatal birth disclose:  
And first, few scattering sparks about were blown,  
Big with the flames that to our ruin rose.   

218.  
Then, in some close-pent room it crept along,  
And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed:  
Till th'infant monster, with devouring strong,  
Walked boldly upright with exalted head.   

219.  
Now, like some rich or mighty Murderer,  
To great for prison, which he breaks with gold▪  
Who fresher for new mischiefs does appear,  
And dares the world to tax him with the old.   

220.  
So escapes th'insulting fire his narrow Jail,  
And makes small outlets into open air:  
There the fierce winds his open force assail,  
And beat him downward to his first repair.   

221.  

a Like crafty, etc. Haec arte tractaba● cupidum virum, ut 〈◊〉 animum i●opia accrud●ret.  The winds, like crafty Courtesans, withheld  
His flames from burning, but to blow them more:  
And, every fresh attempt, he is repelled  
With faint denials, weaker than before.   

222.  
And now, no longer letted of his prey,  
He leaps up at it with enraged desire:  
O'r-looks the neighbours with a wide survey,  
And nods at every house his threatening fire.   

223.  
The Ghosts of Traitors, from the Bridge descend,  
With bold Fanatic Spectres to rejoice:  
About the fire into a Dance they bend,  
And sing their Sabbath Notes with feeble voice.   

224.  
Our Guardian Angel saw them where he sat  
Above the Palace of our slumbering King,  
He sighed, abandoning his charge to Fate,  
And, drooping, oft look back upon the wing.   

225.  
At length the crackling noise and dreadful blaze,  
Called up some waking Lover to the sight:  
And long it was ere he the rest could raise,  
Whose heavy eyelids yet were full of night.   

226.  
The next to danger, hot pursued by fate,  
Half clothed, half naked, hastily retire:  
And frighted Mother strike their breasts, too late,  
For helpless Infants left amidst the fire.   

227.  
Their cries soon waken all the dwellers near:  
Now murmuring noises rise in every street▪  
The more remote run s●umbling with their fear,  
And, in the dark, men justle as they meet.   

228.  
So weary Bees in little Cells repose▪  
But if night-robbers lift the well-stored Hive,  
An humming through their waxen City grows,  
And out upon each others wings they drive.   

229.  
Now streets grow thronged and busy as by day:  
Some run for Buckets to the hallowed Choir:  
Some cut the Pipes, and some the Engines play,  
And some more bold mount Ladders to the fire.   

230.  
In vain: for, from the East, a Belgian wind,  
His hostile breath through the dry rafters sent:  
The flames impelled, soon left their foes behind,  
And forward, with a wanton fury went.   

231.  
A Key of fire ran all along the shore,  

b Sigaea igni freta lata relucent. Virg.  And lightened all the River with the blaze:  
The wakened Tides began again to roar,  
And wondering Fish in shining waters gaze.   

231.  
Old Father Thames raised up his reverend head,  
But feared the fate of Simoeis would return:  
Deep in his Ooze he sought his sedgy bed,  
And shrunk his waters back into his Urn.   

233.  
The fire, mean time, walks in a broader gross,  
To either hand his wings he opens wide:  
He wades the streets, & strait he reaches cross,  
And plays his longing flames on th'other side.   

234.  
At first they warm, then scorch, and then they take:  
Now with long necks from side to side they feed:  
At length, grown strong, their Mother fire forsake,  
And a new Colony of flames succeed.   

235.  
To every nobler portion of the Town,  
The curling billows roll their restless syde:  
In parties now they straggle up and down,  
As Armies, unopposed, for prey divide.   

236.  
One mighty Squadron, with a side wind sped,  
Through narrow lanes his cumber'd fire does haste:  
By powerful charms of gold and silver led,  
The Lombard Bankers and the Change to waste.   

237.  
Another backward to the 〈◊〉 would go,  
And slowly eats his way against the wind▪  
But the main body of the marching foe:  
Against th' Imperial Palace is designed.   

238.  
Now day appears, and with the day the King,  
Whose early care had robbed him of his rest:  
Far off the cracks of falling houses ring,  
And shrieks of subjects pierce his tender breast.   

239.  
Near as he draws, thick harbingers of smoke,  
With gloomy pillars, cover all the place:  
Whose little intervals of night are broke  
By sparks that drive against his Sacred Face.   

240.  
More than his Guards his sorrows made him known,  
And pious tears which down his cheeks did shower:  
The wretched in his grief forgot their own:  
(So much the pity of a King has power.)   

241.  
He wept the flames of what he loved so well,  
And what so well had merited his love.  
For never Prince in grace did more excel,  
Or Royal City more in duty strove.   

242.  
Nor with an idle care did he behold:  
(Subjects may grieve, but Monarches must redress.)  
He cheers the fearful, and commends the bold,  
And makes despairers hope for good success.   

243.  
Himself directs what first is to be done,  
And orders all the succours which they bring.  
The helpful and the good about him run,  
And form an Army worthy such a King.   

244.  
He sees the dire contagion spread so fast,  
That where it seizes, all relief is vain:  
And therefore must unwillingly lay waste  
That Country which would, else, the foe maintain.   

245.  
The powder blows up all before the fire:  
Th' amazed flames stand gathered on a heap;  
And from the precipices brinck retire,  
Afraid to venture on so large a leap.   

246.  
Thus fight fires a while themselves consume,  
But strait, like Turks, forced on to win or die▪  
They first lay ●ender bridges of their fume,  
And o'er the breach in unctuous vapours fly.   

247.  
Part stays for passage till a gust of wind  
Ships o'er their forces in a shining sheet:  
Part, creeping under ground, their journey blind,  
And, climbing from below, their fellows meet.   

248.  
Thus, to some desert plain, or old wood side,  
Dire night has come from far to dance their round:  
And o'er broad Rivers on their fiends they ride,  
Or sweep in clouds above the blasted ground.   

249.  
No help avails: for, Hydra-like, the fire,  
Lists up his hundred heads to aim his way.  
And scarce the wealthy can one half retire,  
Before he rushes in to share the prey.   

250.  
The rich grow suppliant, & the poor grow proud:  
Those offer mighty gain, and these ask more.  
So void of pity is th'ignoble crowd,  
When others ruin may increase their store.   

251.  
As those who live by shores with joy behold  
Some wealthy vessel split or stranded nigh;  
And, from the Rocks, leap down for shipwrecked Gold,  
And seek the Tempest which the others fly.   

252.  
So these but wait the Owners last despair,  
And what's permitted to the flames invade:  
Even from their jaws they hungry morsels tear,  
And, on their backs, the spoils of Vulcan lad.   

253.  
The days were all in this lost labour spent;  
And when the weary King gave place to night,  
His Beams he to his Royal Brother lent,  
And so shone still in his reflective light.   

254.  
Night came, but without darkness or repose,  
A dismal picture of the gen'ral doom:  
Where Souls distracted when the Trumpet blows  
And half unready with their bodies come.   

255.  
Those who have homes, when home they do repair  
To a last lodging call their wandering friends.  
Their short uneasy sleeps are broke with care,  
To look how near their own destruction tends.   

256.  
Those who have none sit round where once it was,  
And with full eyes each wont room require:  
Haunting the yet warm ashes of the place,  
As murdered men walk where they did expire.   

257.  
Some stir up coals and watch the Vestal fire,  
Others in vain from sight of ruin run:  
And, while through burning labyrinths they retire,  
With loathing eyes repeat what they would shun.   

258.  
The most, in fields, like herded beasts lie down;  
To dews obnoxious on the grassy floor:  
And while their tabes in sleep their sorrows drown,  
Sad Parents watch the 〈◊〉 of their store.   

259.  
While by the motion of the flames they guess  
What streets are burning now, & what are near:  
An Infant, waking, to the paps would press▪  
And meets, instead of milk, a falling tear.   

260.  
No thought can ease them but their Sovereign's care,  
Whose praise th'afflicted as their comfort sing:  
Even those whom want might drive to just despair,  
Think life a blessing under such a King.   

261.  
Mean time he sadly suffers in their grief,  
Out-weeps an Hermit, and out-prays a Saint:  
All the long night he studies their relief,  
How they may be supplied, and he may want.   

262.  
O God, said he, thou Patron of my days,  
Guide of my youth in exile and distress!  
Who me unfriended, brought'st by wondrous ways  
The Kingdom of my Fathers to possess. 
King's Prayer.    

263.  
Be thou my Judge, with what unwearied care  
I since have laboured for my People's good:  
To bind the bruises of a Civil War,  
And stop the issues of their wasting blood.   

264.  
Thou, who hast taught me to forgive the ill,  
And recompense, as friends the good, misled;  
If mercy be a Precept of thy will,  
Return that mercy on thy Servant's head.   

265.  
Or, if my heedless Youth has stepped astray,  
Too soon forgetful of thy gracious hand:  
On me alone thy just displeasure lay,  
But take thy judgements from this mourning Land.   

266.  
We all have sinned, and thou hast laid us low,  
As humble Earth from whence at first we came:  
Like flying shades before the clouds we show,  
And shrink like Parchment in consuming flame.   

267.  
O let it be enough what thou hast done,  
When spotted deaths ran armed through every street,  
With poisoned darts, which not the good could shun.  
The speedy could outfly, or valiant meet.   

268.  
The living few, and frequent funerals then,  
Proclaimed thy wrath on this forsaken place:  
And now those few who are returned again  
Thy searching judgements to their dwellings trace.   

269.  
O pass not, Lord, an absolute decree,  
Or bind thy sentence unconditional:  
But in thy sentence our remorse foresee,  
And, in that foresight, this thy doom recall.   

270.  
Thy threatenings, Lord, as thine, thou mayst revoke:  
But, if immutable and fixed they stand,  
Continue still thyself to give the stroke,  
And let not foreign foes oppress thy Land.   

271.  
Th' Eternal heard, and from the Heavenly Choir,  
Chose out the Cherub with the flaming sword:  
And bade him swiftly drive th' approaching fire  
From where our Naval Magazines were stored.   

272.  
The blessed Minister his wings displayed,  
And like a shooting Star he cloven the night:  
He charged the flames, and those that disobeyed,  
He lashed to duty with his sword of light.   

273.  
The fugitive flames, chastised, went forth to prey  
On pious Structures, by our Fathers reared:  
By which to Heaven they did affect the way,  
Ere Faith in Churchmen without Works was heard.   

274.  
The wanting Orphans saw, with watery eyes,  
Their Founder's charity in dust laid low:  
And sent to God their ever-answered cries,  
(For he protects the poor who made them so.)   

275.  
Nor could thy Fabric, Paul's, defend thee long,  
Though thou wert Sacred to thy Maker's praise:  
Though made immortal by a Poet's Song;  
And Poet's Songs the Theban walls could raise.   

276.  
The daring flames peep't in and saw from far,  
The awful beauties of the Sacred Choir:  
But, since it was profaned by Civil War,  
Heaven thought it fit to have it purged by fire.   

277.  
Now down the narrow streets it swiftly came,  
And, widely opening, did on both sides prey.  
This benefit we sadly owe the flame,  
If only ruin must enlarge our way.   

278.  
And now four days the Sun had seen our woes,  
Four nights the Moon beheld th' incessant fire:  
It seemed as if the Stars more sickly rose,  
And farther from the feverish North retire.   

279.  
In th' Empyrean Heaven, (the blessed abode)  
The Thrones and the Dominions prostrate lie,  
Not daring to behold their angry God:  
And an hushed silence damps the tuneful sky.   

280.  
At length th' Almighty cast a pitying eye,  
And mercy softly touched his melting breast:  
He saw the Town's one half in rubbish lie,  
And eager flames give on to storm the rest.   

281.  
An hollow crystal Pyramid he takes,  
In firmamental waters dipped above;  
Of it a broad Extinguisher he makes,  
And hoods the flames that to their quarry strove.   

282.  
The vanquished fires withdraw from every place,  
Or full with feeding, sink into a sleep:  
Each household Genius shows again his face,  
And, from the hearths, the little Lar creep.   

283.  
Our King this more than natural change beholds;  
With sober joy his heart and eyes abound:  
To the All-good his lifted hands he folds,  
And thanks him low on his redeemed ground.   

284.  
As when sharp frosts had long constrained the earth,  
A kindly thaw unlocks it with mild rain:  
And first the tender blade peeps up to birth,  
And strait the green fields laugh with promised grain:   

285.  
By such degrees, the spreading gladness grew  
In every heart, which fear had froze before:  
The standing streets with so much joy they view,  
That with less grief the perished they deplore.   

286.  
The Father of the people opened wide  
His stores, and all the poor with plenty fed:  
Thus God's Anointed God's own place supplied,  
And filled the empty with his daily bread.   

287.  
This Royal bounty brought its own reward,  
And, in their minds, so deep did print the sense:  
That if their ruins sadly they regard,  
'Tis but with fear the sight might drive him thence.   

289.  
But so may he live long, that Town to sway,  
Which by his Auspice they will nobler make,  
As he will hatch their ashes by his stay,  
And not their humble ruins now forsake. 
City's request to the King not to leave them.    

290.  
They have not lost their Loyalty by fire;  
Nor is their courage or their wealth so low,  
That from his Wars they poorly would retire,  
Or beg the pity of a vanquished foe.   

291.  
Not with more constancy the jews of old,  
By ●yrus from rewarded Exile sent:  
Their Royal City did in dust behold,  
Or with more vigour to rebuild it went.   

292.  
The utmost malice of their Stars is passed,  
And two dire Comets which have scourged the Town,  
In their own Plague and Fire have breathed their last,  
Or, dimly, in their sinking sockets frown.   

293.  
Now frequent Trines the happier lights among,  
And high-raised jove from his dark prison freed:  
(Those weights took off that on his Planet hung)  
Will gloriously the new laid work succeed.   

294.  
Methinks already, from this Chemic flame,  
I see a City of more precious mould▪  
Rich as the Town which gives the 
c Mexico.  Indies name,  
With Silver paved, and all divine with Gold.   

295.  
Already, Labouring with a mighty fate,  
She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow,  
And seems to have renewed her Charters date,  
Which Heaven will to the death of time allow.   

296.  
More great than humane, now, and more 
d Augusta, the old name of London.  August,  
New deified she from her fires does rise:  
Her widening streets on new foundations trust,  
And, opening, into larger parts she flies.   

297.  
Before, she like some Shepherdess did show,  
Who sat to bathe her by a River's side:  
Not answering to her fame, but rude and low,  
Nor taught the beauteous Arts of Modern pride.   

298.  
Now, like a Maiden Queen, she will behold,  
From her high Turrets, hourly Suitors come:  
The East with Incense, and the West with Gold,  
Will stand, like Suppliants, to receive her doom.   

299.  
The silver Thames, her own domestic Flood,  
Shall bear her Vessels, like a sweeping Train;  
And often wind (as of his Mistress proud)  
With longing eyes to meet her face again.   

300.  
The wealthy Tagus, and the wealthier Rhine,  
The glory of their Towns no more shall boast:  
And Sein, That would with Belgian Rivers join,  
Shall find her lustre stained, and traffic lost.   

301.  
The venturous Merchant, who designed more far,  
And touches on our hospitable shore:  
Charmed with the splendour of this Northern Star,  
Shall here unlade him, and depart no more.   

302.  
Our powerful Navy shall no longer meet,  
The wealth of France or Holland to invade:  
The beauty of this Town, without a Fleet,  
From all the world shall vindicate her Trade.   

303.  
And, while this famed Emporium we prepare▪  
The British Ocean shall such triumphs boast,  
That those who now disdain our Trade to share,  
Shall rob like Pirates on our wealthy Coast.   

304.  
Already we have conquered half the War,  
And the less dangerous part is left behind:  
Our trouble now is but to make them dare,  
And not so great to vanquish as to find.   

305.  
Thus to the Eastern wealth through storms we go;  
But now, the Cape once doubled, fear no more:  
A constant Trade-wind will securely blow,  
And gently lay us on the Spicy shore.   
FINIS.