A PINDARIC POEM UPON THE FLEET.  
Written by Mr. D'urfey.  
LONDON, Printed, and are to be sold by Randal Taylor, near Stationers-Hall. 1692.   

A Pindaric POEM.  

I.  
CALM was the Ocean, as when first the Sun  
Blessing the new Creation, had begun,  
To prove the Maker's power, and disperse  
Indulgent Beams arround the Infant Universe:  
Triumphant Neptune cleared his stormy Brow,  
Curled his green dropping Locks, and now  
His Aged face with wanton smiling seemed  
As if his present Joy, had his past years redeemed.  
About him thronged in every place,  
Naereids and Tritons, all the Finny Race  
That many a Century of years had striven;  
T' express their duteous Zeal and Love,  
Where'er the Watery God his Chariot drove.  
Hushed in the Calm of soft contentment lay,  
Some Dancd, whilst others with the Sea Nymphs play,  
All pleased to see their Monarch smile, & the propitious day.   

II.  
For now Great Britain's Glory began t' appear,  
The Royal Navy here,  
Predestined blest, its glorious Course did Steer:  
Castles Impregnable, not made to yield,  
As when of old the hands of Gods did build;  
Glide on the rolling Billows and make sport  
With each oposing surge, a Monarch's Court  
Is every Vessel, and in every Room  
Caesar might think himself at home,  
The Amorous Sails swell with the Winds that blow,  
And Woods of English Oak upon the Ocean grow,  
The Flower de Luce, and Type of English fame,  
When they the French did fame:  
Guilds every Flag, and in each Lion's eyes  
The Rage of our wronged Nation seems to rise;  
To see what now they are,  
And heretofore we were;  
When Martial Henry drove'em to their Walls,  
And Royally revenged the mock of their proud Tennis-Balls.   

III.  
Britannia first the Empress of the Fleet,  
In awful pomp rides on each humble Wave;  
Who forward Crowd with joy as pleased to meet:  
Her glorious Stern and mighty sides to Lave;  
The Jocund Dolphins round about her Keel,  
whenever the Martial Trumpets Sound;  
The Charming Influence of Music feel,  
And Dance an Antic Round;  
Whilst on the Deck a Thousand Heroes are;  
Valiant and young, true Natives, scorning fear,  
That England's Ancient Blood, and Honour bear:  
And at their feet a hundred Brazen fates;  
That kill as fast as Jove Creates:  
When their hot Balls of Death are flying on,  
T' Eclipse the great false Light of the proud  Sun.   

iv  
With Bloody Streamers Waving in the Wind,  
The Sovereign next does steer her graceful Course,  
Raising her Royal head, nor is behind  
Britannia for her bravery or Force;  
Imperial State, Majestic like her Name,  
Reigns in each Motion, and does nobly show,  
Her just disdain of an Invading Foe;  
That dares affront her Country or her Fame.  
Next her the Phoenix London Booms along,  
The Lofty Theme of a famed Laureates Song:  
That like great Maro, best could treat of Kings;  
And writ in mighty numbers mighty things.  
The Great St. Andrew too in equal Rank;  
Exalts her Glittering Prow;  
Proud of her Walls of Oak, and Death defying Plank;  
Although they never did in Scotland grow;  
And lastly, to fill up the glorious Line,  
The blessed St. Michael, like her Name Divine;  
Crowned with auspicious Fortune comes,  
Gallia's inveterate Foe and Rome's.  
For as the Conquering Archangel fought,  
And th' Hellish Dragon to confusion brought;  
That o'er Mankind so prosperously prevails,  
So is she doomed to rout and quell the Dragon of Versailles.   

V  
And after these with spreading Sails appear,  
More wonders moving in a lower sphere,  
A noble Fleet of second and third Rates,  
Our Causes Bulwark and the States;  
That our best brood of English bear,  
Heroes that hold their Honour as a Gem,  
Of rich, and of unprized esteem;  
And weigh each Vessel that for Empire strives,  
Dear as their darling Lives.  
The glorious Neptune, and the Vanguard bold  
The Sandwich famed for bravery of old;  
The Royal Duke, and Valiant Ossory,  
The Beauteous Duchess, Mistress of the Sea:  
The Dreadnought, and the Restauration,  
The Resolution, sworn to right the Nation;  
And next as good as e'er did Sails unfurle,  
The great restorer of a Crown, the Loyal Albermarle.   

VI  
With many more, sacred in deathless fame,  
And in their brave Commanders blest;  
That scorn to play the last years wretched Game,  
Or sell their Honour for base Interest;  
A noble courage swells each Martial heart,  
Whilst even each Coward Charmed with secret shame,  
Grows stout in spite of fear, and acts a Hero's part;  
To right his Country and redeem his fame,  
The hated thought of  Tyranny▪  
In every freeborn English Soul,  
Will just resentment raise to a degree,  
That all such baseness must control;  
And as we of a Noble Roman read,  
Who that his Country might be freed;  
Bravely adventured, though without reward,  
To stab a Tyrant amongst all his Guard.  
So rather than the French command our Sea,  
Or in sweet Albion Plant their hated Colony,  
From out our Navy, or our Power at Land,  
Some Son of Fame, some glorious Hand,  
No doubt the sacred Steel will draw,  
And gloriously acquire the Name of English Scaevola.   

VII.  
Thus in an Intellectual Vision lost,  
My senses charmed with the enchanting view,  
A Scene, to equal which Apelles ne'er could boast,  
And mighty Titian never drew;  
Whilst long with Pleasure sated I surveyed  
The dazzling Glory of the Sea,  
Where Naval Pomp in splendour lay,  
And England's Grandeur was at large displayed,  
Methought the Watery God in state,  
Drew near the Royal Fleet,  
And with a Grace Majestic seemed to greet,  
Her 
* The Neptune 2d. Rate.  that was honoured with his Name, & we have mentioned late.  
His numerous train of lesser Deities,  
Around his shelly Chariot rolled,  
The Winds were hushed, and not a Breeze Durst be so bold,  
To move the silent Waves; but now, as if his Power  
Had doomed the Marine world to rest that happy hour,  
No sound was heard through all his Scaly Guard du Ceur.   

VIII.  
On a high Rock that dashed with Waves had stood,  
 since th' Almighty Fiat made the Sea,  
And stemmed the shock of the tempestuous flood,  
At whose deep root old Father Ocean lay,  
And to a hollow Cell had carved his wondrous way:  
Neptune advances, and to th' Aged Sire,  
(Whom Joy uncommon did inspire,  
To see the Seas triumphant God,  
Honour the place of his abode)  
Waving his sacred Trident, th' Father graced,  
And on the Rocks least Craggy part upon his right hand placed.  
Then full of Oracle the profound silence broke,  
And thus of his Loved Albion with Divine fury spoke.   

IX.  
Oh thou, the Garden of the Universe,  
Whose fame the Songs of Angels might disperse;  
And Bards Divine, where Wit is most extreme,  
And merit Wreaths of Laurel from the mighty Theme,  
Thou lovely Park, where Herds of Kings may dwell  
Paled in with Sea, and be Invincible.  
Thou blissful seat, which the Eternal made  
(Untired with the Creating Trade)  
Before the courser Mould had its decree,  
To form the common Herb, or Flower, or Tree.  
How oft from my profound recess below,  
Did I my sorrow show?  
Sorrow as great as possible could be,  
When Pity moves a Deity,  
To see my Darling Britain, my Loved Isle,  
Grow so Degenerate and Vile;  
Sickening with Sloth, and baneful Luxury;  
Her Credit lost to a degree  
Of Cowardice, and gross Stupidity:  
Whilst her insulting Neighbour Potent grows,  
And her once petty Foes,  
That some few Ages past,  
Gladly a Peace with her embraced:  
Whom her Immortal Kings, in former times,  
Have Conquered in their Native Climes;  
Took Royal Prisoners in the Field,  
And to their own Conditions made them yield,  
And from the glittering Banner of their Crown,  
Taken the Impress to adorn her own.  
Now by her sloth undone, and treachery,  
Her Schism, Rebellion, and Impiety;  
And by neglect in War so long remiss,  
Have given her Foes hope to possess,  
And her substantial Lions win for th' Titular Fleur de Lice.   

X.  
Redeem, redeem, thy wretched loss of time,  
Redeem thy honour, mouldering as the Grave;  
No longer dose and hug thy sluggish crime,  
But rouse, and sinking credit save.  
The Destinies are kind, the Book of Fate is fair,  
No blotted Omen does appear,  
But Influence benevolent crowns the auspicious year.  
Thy Wealth is mighty, and thy Navy great,  
And blushing Victory seems to wait,  
As Preordained by Fate.  
The Powers too of my Empire all agree,  
From the vast Caverns of unfathomed Sea,  
To assist Britain's Cause espoused by me.  
The Waves shall mount, and Winds shall rage's,  
Rough Boreas shall the Foe engage;  
Who tossed in fatal storms shall scatter far,  
Or blindly on themselves make War,  
Whilst Zephyrus, and every gentle Wind,  
Still to thy Fleet propitious are and kind,  
And on my watery Plain shall safely ride,  
Untroubled with a ruffling storm, or with a rolling tide.   

XI.  
And as the Natives on thy chalky shore,  
Behold with Joy thy Naval Power,  
Greater than Britain e'er could boast before.  
Who if they Loyal service pay,  
And take no Bribes their Country to betray,  
Are strong enough to gain a universal sway.  
So Fame through thy Perspective let them see,  
Albion's Felicity,  
Fixed in her present Monarch's Bravery.  
Royal Nassaw, of whom to write is vain,  
IT would blunt the ablest Pen, and crack the soundest Brain.  
Th'extreme of thought, adorned with nicest Wit,  
His character has never writ,  
Describe all good they can, they must leave something yet.  
Call him Deliverer, let 
* Church.  Eusebia kneel,  
And show the Wounds she did so lately feel,  
Unveil the bleeding breast his sovereign balm did heal.  
And then in Prayer her grateful homage show,  
Still 'tis a sacrifice too low.  
Or style him Pious, Generous, Valiant, Wise,  
Who beyond Virgil's Muse, or soaring Pindar flies,  
Will reach his Fame no more than Molehills do the Skies.  
Strict Moral Virtue does his breast control,  
And there reigns in him a true Kingly Soul.  
Not swayed by Avarice or Luxury,  
Tyrannic Lust, nor poor Dogmatic Bigotry,  
But firm to Honour, true to his great trust,  
And to the meanest of his subjects Just▪  
In time of War none readier than he,  
To hazard life in th' Field, or launch to Sea;  
The Hunt of Glory is his chief delight,  
But careful that his cause is right,  
Upon French Principles Great Nassaw will not fight,  
But on just motives, with the first go on,  
And face the worst of dangers, like each private man;  
His Royal heart mix with the common File;  
Nor will he wear the Wreath, unless he share the toil.  
But to retrieve the glory of his Nation,  
Still bushes forward on each brave occasion,  
And his successful Valour proves Divine Predestination.   

XII.  
Next Reverend Father, lift thy Eyes;  
And if the aged Optics of thy sight,  
Can bear a Ray so bright,  
As never yet was rivalled in the skies,  
See Gloriana sighing on the Throne;  
Her Royal Lord the Faith's Defender gone.  
Observe how filial Piety,  
Loaded with State, and sovereign Dignity,  
The weighty pressure of a Crown;  
The People's satisfaction not her own,  
Disturbs her sacred rest; and anxious Care,  
Inveterate Foe to all the Fair,  
In th' midst of her feigned smiles still sits as chief,  
And shows true Beauty in a  of grief.  
See how the scale of Justice wisely she commands,  
And holds the sword with guiltless hands:  
A perfect Angel in a double kind,  
For outward Grace and Virtues of her Mind.  
Her heart with Care of her great charge oppressed,  
Still throbs within her heavenly breast.  
She wishes Peace, but ah! it will not be,  
The Lands Contagion spreads to that degree,  
'Tis only War can cure the hated Malady.  
Yet in the midst of Wars alarms,  
It's hourly terrors, and impending harms,  
That discompose her mighty soul,  
And over all delights control,  
Her Influencing eyes are still the same,  
And with their usual lustre flame;  
Her face is all serene and fair,  
And though Bellona may appear,  
Warring within her troubled heart, Love keeps his Revels there.   

XIII.  
Her Sister in the next bright sphere does move,  
Twinlike, in Virtue, Piety and Love;  
The happy Mother to a brood of Kings,  
That shall in future times do wondrous things:  
And as like Heavenborn Sisters they agree,  
In all the points of sacred amity.  
So choicest blessings Providence bestows,  
And though in different gifts, an equal bounty shows.  
To one a glorious Diadem,  
To th'other an unvalued Gem,  
A Happy Son, a young Illustrious Prince,  
That when the  Insolence  
Shall cool, and Mighty William's Annals fill,  
With Histories of Conquests there, as I presage they will,  
Shall march with his brave Sire, the Royal Dane,  
To summon Normandy, Poictieu and maine,  
And as our once known ancient right, Anjou and Aquitaine;  
From such an Uncle, such a Father too,  
That Glories brightest prize pursue.  
What may we not expect,  
When they our Arms direct?  
What from their Conduct may not Albion do?  
The first his Royal Word esteems beyond a Crown,  
And by their Words good Monarches best are known.  
Nor can a King's Divinity be true,  
Unless Word be not sacred too.  
This, this, is Caesar's Maxim, he who now commands.  
The boldest Sons of Fame in Foreign Lands,  
Whilst Denmark's noble Prince as bravely here,  
Offers his blood; and rather than not bear,  
In Britain's danger, or its fame, a share,  
Resolves t'engage at Sea a Royal Volunteer.   

XIV.  
Thus spoke the Marine God, and all around,  
From the Rocks hollow Cells and Deeps profound,  
The listening Tritons rise, and shelly Trumpets sound,  
Attended with a numerous train  
Of scaly Moble of the Main,  
Who swum in crowds to see that pompous show,  
A glorious City made of Castles, flow.  
Then bloated with the News,  
Down to their Mansion Ooze,  
And distant fry, with Joy return again.  
But amongst all that Neptune's speech had heard,  
And in attention had revered,  
Hoary Oceanus sat with most regard;  
His awful Counsellor and Friend,  
That long since had his favour gained,  
For grateful service in his Love,  
When Ampitrite first service in his heart's passion move,  
Who as she at the foot of Alas sat,  
Priding herself in her free Virgin state,  
Was by her Grandfire snatched away,  
And on a Dolphin forced to ride,  
Through the vast Empire of the Sea,  
To be deboachd into a Bribe▪  
He, till the Marine Deity had done  
His late admired Oration,  
Withheld his smothering griefs; but now  
Sighs taking vent, his bosom large did grow  
With sorrows, that he could no longer tame;  
Which from his swelling breast at last, thus broke into a flame.   

XV.  
Great King of boundless floods, to whom was given  
Not only the great Empire of the Sea,  
But as a more peculiar Lott from Heaven,  
A Wisdom large as thy Imperial sway.  
Tho happy Albion in thy favour blest,  
Above all Nations may Exalt her head,  
A secret Pang torments my breast,  
To see how spiritless and dead  
The Natives are that throng her chalky shore,  
And how unlike their brood of Heroes heretofore.  
Glory was once the subject of their Arms,  
But now for Interest each faction swarms;  
And Honour which each noble bosom swayed,  
For Gold is bartered, and become a Trade.  
Nay, even Religion grows sophisticate,  
And base dissenting schism of late,  
With errors jarring, set 'em all at strife;  
They Preach up t'other, but they love this life.  
Even the most Reverend of the sacred Mystery,  
The weakest eyes may plainly see,  
Not proof against the luscious bait of tempting dignity.  
Why since their Soul and Flocks should be their care,  
Should worldly accidents their bosom's share,  
And sordid Lucre take possession there?  
At least whilst sacred Providence,  
Allows a proper competence,  
Why should their obstinate and stubborn will  
Occasion to their Country so much ill,  
As in their Cause, to make vile feuds increase,  
And they themselves renounce the Type of Apostolic peace.   

XVI.  
In Court too 'tis the same,  
Few there by Virtue purchase Fame,  
But he that best can overreach, best plays the Courtier's game.  
The Politician tires his brains  
But for his own peculiar gains,  
His Country's Cause might sink, lost be the state,  
Had he not some byends of being great.  
Or should we search the Lawyer's honesty,  
In knavish Courts of Common-Pleas, or cozening Chancery,  
You'd find Integrity appear  
The worst of all the Causes there.  
Rich Mammon's business shall not go amiss,  
But poor Phillemon sues in forma pauperis;  
And though his worth be great, shall seldom draw  
To aid him, the compassion of the Law.  
In Love too we the same defects behold,  
Hearts now are bought and sold;  
The Man of sense, alas! in vain does Woo,  
Dull Ignorance with Gold, can Virtue far outdo,  
Be Merit ne'er so great, or Passion ne'er so true.  
Cynthia still chooses wealthiest Men,  
Th' ill fated fair one never looks within,  
ne'er asks how worthy, but how great?  
What qualities, but what Estate?  
And though of gifts of fortune she's possessed,  
Enough to make some man of merit blest,  
Who would in grateful service waste his life  
T' oblige so generous a Wife;  
And happiness that way secure,  
Which the Rich Husband's Gold can ne'er assure.  
Yet land and titles bear the sway,  
Cynthia does Avarice obey;  
And in her eye, how poorly does appear  
A thousand Virtues, when compared t' a thousand pounds a year.   

XVII.  
In all degrees of frail Humanity  
There must great Errors be;  
But ah my aged sight in tears is lost,  
To think that Albion bears the most:  
The quality of every strange offence  
So much enrages Providence,  
That Mercy after Crimes so base  
Seems Imposition upon heavenly Grace.  
Observe what Jars, the bane of all content,  
Amongst themselves her Son's foment:  
Discord, that ushers doubts and fears,  
Is all the harmony she hears;  
And hated broils 'twixt friend and friend  
Brings each successive day to its sad end.  
Cursed Bigotry began the Play,  
Then Revolution changed the scene,  
And brought a happy freedom in,  
Till stubborn Pride turned it a tragic way,  
And proved the humour of each Native there,  
Just like the nature of the Clime and Air.  
For as the Wether instantly  
Can change from hot to cold, from moist to dry,  
So they from Rebels can turn Loyal men,  
Set up a King and prove his Right,  
And for him Vote, and for him Fight,  
And at the least disgust can Rebels turn again.   

XVIII.  
Mean time whilst schisms possess our frantic brains,  
His ends the  tyrant gains:  
He the rich Prize away does bear,  
For which we one another tear.  
What can this Mighty Navy do,  
If only opulent in show?  
If Treason skulking lies within,  
And they forget the Name of English Men,  
A scene of Glory they may idly boast,  
But see with shame their Country lost.  
I'th' contrary, if Loyal Virtue warms  
Their Valiant hearts, and they dare use their Arms,  
If they the difference can see  
'Twixt freeborn right and slavery;  
The French may well repent their Insolence once more,  
And never hope t'adorn their brows with Laurels from our shore.   

XIX.  
Thus spoke the Reverend Father, to whom straight  
The awful God replied,  
Well has thy tongue described poor Albion's state,  
And Cause of  Pride;  
But now in great Nassaws Illustrious Reign,  
The Martial Genius does return again;  
Her Sons no longer Lazy Peace esteem,  
The souls of Edward and great Henry live in him.  
Henry and William fated are the same;  
There's a Prophetic force even in the Name,  
Which does Mysteriously show,  
The latter like the first shall Conquer too.  
time lately was when sloth and ease,  
The Poison to their English Blood,  
And cursed destroyer of their good,  
Worse than the Plague, was their disease.  
But now their Fortune rises to a nobler height,  
Under great William prosperously they fight;  
Bigoted Rulers their disgrace still brings,  
The dull and tame,  
ne'er reach to fame;  
A Martial Race thrive best with Martial Kings.  
So, as in Numa's sluggish Reign,  
Forgetful Rome dissolved in ease,  
The valiant Ancus did her fame regain,  
And War succeeded drowsy Peace:  
Their brave new Monarch a fresh game began,  
And boldly led the Latins on:  
Glory renewed, the haughty Gauls did bow,  
So armed with strong fidelity,  
Their troops on shore, and power at Sea;  
Courage that shall in fight renew,  
And my auspicious blessing too,  
As powerful Rome did then, shall mighty Albion now.   

XX.  
Thus ending with an air divinely great,  
The Deity risen up and blest the Fleet;  
At which the Sea-Gods from the shore,  
The blessing twice repeating o'er,  
With shouts confirmed, and th' Chariot straight prepare;  
For now the sultry Air,  
Began t' offend th' scaly Fry,  
And Naereids gasping fret, for fear their Fins should dry,  
Their Monarch plunging through the Sea,  
Down to his Palace, drives a long mysterious way,  
Through watery Provinces where Nature lies  
'Mongst undiscovered Rarities.  
Oceanus too, on his Sea Pacer placed,  
To his low home made haste;  
Who whilst th' attending Train each to his Mansion dives,  
Full forty thousand Fathom deep, the Sire at last arrives.   
FINIS.