The RED-SEA:  
OR THE DESCRIPTION Of a most Horrid, Bloody, and never yet paralleled SEA-FIGHT BETWEEN THE ENGLISH & DUTCH.  
With an Elegy on that truly Valiant and Renowned Commander, Sir Christopher Minnes, Who died in the Bed of Honour, in defence of his King and Country.  
By R.H.  
LONDON, Printed by Peter Lillicrap, and are to be sold at the Prince's Arms in Chancery Lane, 1666.   

To my truly worthy and ingenious Friend Mr. Richard Wedale.  
SIR,  

THat nought can judge of Wit but Wit, 'tis true,  
Wherefore these Lines I Dedicate to Tou.  
My Subject's Valour, which therein is shown;  
Valour and Wit are Properties You own.  
Wherefore I hope, You will accept these Rhymes,  
Since Wit and Valour are Your only Crimes.   
Your most Affectionate Friend and Servant R. H.   

The RED-SEA: Or a Description of a most Horrid and Bloody Sea-Fight between the English and Dutch.  

SOL well nigh sweltered in his fiery team,  
Hastened to cool himself ●'th ' Western stream,  
When there appeared two large prodigious Woods,  
Which strove to meet, floating upon the Floods.  
The Sun did hereupon more swiftly fly,  
Frighted to see this Sea-bred-Prodigie.  
At whose approach, the curled Billows roar,  
And as it comes, fearfully roll before.  
The silent Fish presaging future blood,  
Against their kind ran frighted in the mud:  
And had they Wings would from the Sea have broken,  
And but for churlish Nature would have spoken  
To manifest their fear; yet what they might,  
In shoals they fled to shun the dreadful sight.  
The Ocean's King feeling such weight on's back,  
With leaning on his Trident made it crack.  
Had it not been , they say  
The Earth this time would fain have fled away;  
Which with the Shore so trembled, you'd have said,  
Fear, not enclosed Winds this Earthquake made.   

These stately Ships were thronged with Noble Spirits,  
Whose only aim was by their lofty merits  
To outlive Fate, and for their Country's good,  
Think it their glory to pour forth their blood.  
These gallant Souls were all devote to give  
Their own lives, that their Countrymen may live.  
Here then observe, which you may frequent try;  
The worthiest man most willing is to die.   

Our Admiral breathes forth a stout Alarm;  
The adverse Fleet Echoed rebounding Arm.  
Thus at the Generals voice, the vulgar sort  
To their assigned stations resort;  
With quick confused haste, the tumult's led;  
And speed, by too much speed, is hindered.  
One might have thought the Battle was begun,  
To see how Neptune first was through run.   

Now as with proud advance they nearer came,  
Those beasts which gave the Sail-rul'd-Vessels name,  
With an aspect more grim, then is their life,  
Made all their speed to make, then end the strife.  
So fiercely they came on, as if from thence  
They meant to move their painted residence.   

Now bravely did the General exhort  
His men to courage (though his speech was short)  
To this, or like effect—   

Courage Brave souls, and that is all I pray;  
Strength cannot want, where courage leads the way.  
But what need I th'undaunted hearts excite  
Of them, whose eyes me thinks already Fight?  
Look as you do, and you shall never need  
Weapons, or hands, to make your Foes to bleed.  
Your looks shall strike them dead, your Warlike sight  
Shall put your fearful Enemies to flight.  
What ere you aim at, here before you lie,  
Honour, Revenge, Spoil, Riches, Victory:  
Which if they move not; see your Native Land,  
Your Nurse, your Mother, see, how she doth stand  
A far to mark which of you best shall render  
His duty, striving who shall best defend her.  
If you don't fight, your Foes won't mercy have;  
If you won't fight, the Sea will prove your Grave;  
Or else by Justice dombed to die: then on,  
And let not this cold Element, whereon  
You are to fight, quench those courageous Flames  
Which burn in every manly breast, that aims  
At Immortality; Fight and the Ocean's bound,  
Nay farthest Thule, with your fame shall sound.  
The Sun himself when he at night shall press  
This way, will go and tell the Antipodes  
What acts he saw. Nor yet of aid despair,  
The Wind, and Sea (if need shall ask) will spare  
The chiefest help (which they possess) to you:  
All Fish prove Sword Fish, fight for our due.  
No longer will the time with us dispense,  
What my speech wants, my Sword shall recompense.   

Now did th' amazing signs of Battle sound,  
Making the Lands remote, and Rocks rebound.  
The shrill voiced Trumpet, and courageous Drum  
In rattling Language bid the Foes to come.  
Death's horrid Vizard now gins t'appear  
In their pale faces; terror, ghastly fear  
In their amazed hearts doth panting rise;  
And future blood baths in their fiery eyes.  
Apelles' present here, or one so skilled,  
Might have drawn Pictures hence, that would have killed.   

The thundering Ordinance now began to rend  
The frighted Air; the Flames before it sent,  
Seem lightning, and as deadly Bullets fly,  
Prodigious Hail seem to pour down the Sky.  
Nilus ne'er roared so much, when with a shock  
Headlong doth tumble from the towering Rock:  
Making the people on the neighbouring Shelves,  
That hearing him they cannot hear themselves.  
Thus the Fights noise made many a man to fall  
In roaring Death a silent Funeral.   

Alas! those Elements which use t' uphold  
Our crazy Lives with their due heat and cold,  
Making complete our Body's constitution,  
Strive now to cause its utter dissolution:  
Who viewing this, would not have thoughted a wonder,  
That without Rain, Winde, Lightning, Hail, or Thunder,  
Or hidden Shelves, or Rocks, Sea ambushed back,  
Or any Tempest, Ships should suffer wrack?  
That one might here have termed it, choose you whether,  
A stormy Calm, or Calm Tempestuous Wether:  
But now each Fleet, each Ship, with hopeful pride  
Clash altogether furious, side to side;  
Their tired senses laboured in such wise,  
That they grew dull with too much Exercise:  
Their troubled eyes viewing such ghastly sights,  
Wished that sad darkness cancelled all their lights.  
The horrid noise the Battle made was such,  
Hearing, heard nothing 'cause it heard so much.  
Such a confusion racks their senses here,  
They'd reason now to wish they senseless were.   

Now Death in purple stands upon the hatches,  
With pale and grisly looks; see how he snatches  
Hundreds of men at once, and stops their Breath,  
Till that grim Death grew weary now of Death.  
See on the Sea how thousand Bodies float  
From their Great Ships, hasting to Charon's Boat:  
Which crabbed Scholar now might think it meet  
His old torn Bout should be new changed a Fleet.  
The tumults noise pierced the blue arched Sky,  
The crystal Aire filled with a deadly cry,  
Only in this was blest, as Blows abounded,  
It could be ever Cut, yet never Wounded.  
Th● silent Earth, glad that she was debarred  
From this sad sight, yet inwardly was heard  
(The dreadful Guns rebounding oft) to moan,  
And Echo, made her yield a hollow groan:  
But this thing chief made her most to rave,  
That to her due the Sea should prove a Grave.  
Never did strong breathed Aeolus disturb  
The Sea so much, when he can hardly curb  
His madding Pages, when they raging, muster  
To quarrel with the Waves, or whistling bluster,  
Among the well-set Trees, and branched Boughs,  
Singing through chinks of some decayed house.  
Nor stern Orion, with his stormy Light  
Apalling Seamen, doth so much affright  
Their soon moved Sea, as did this Battles noise,  
Which Neptune answered with his bellowing Voice.  
Who as the Fleets made nearer to the strand,  
With tumbling haste, ran frighted up the Sand;  
That had not bounds restrained his Element,  
His watery Veil had clothed the Continent.  
The tender Nymphs, who with their silver Feet  
Use on the Plains o'th' crisped Sea to mere;  
Where tripping prettily they're wont to dance  
Themselves into a heavenly slumbering trance  
Of sweet repose, at these inhuman shocks,  
With hair all torn creep into th' hollow Rocks;  
Where shrouded they to meditate begun,  
No Rock so flinty as the Heart of Man.   

Ships now began to burn, that one might see  
Neptune's, and Vulcan's consanguinity.  
The quaking Ships with Thundering Guns are rend,  
Whose wounded Sides, the gored Streams do vent  
Of Dead and Wounded Men, who lay therein  
As if they had their Beires, or Coffins been.  
They that would have a Mare Liberum  
Instead thereof gain Mare Mortuum.   

Their Tackle, Sails, and Cables now do burn,  
And Fire casts Anchors, never to return.  
Thus did th' inhuman Battles fury rage,  
Nor could the Sea th' increasing Flames assuage.  
Fire now and Water did not each contend,  
But seemed their Powers so mutually to lend;  
That you might see there many men became  
Burnt in the Sea, and Drowned in the Flame.  
This one good hap to carcases did fall,  
They'd fire to burn them at their Funeral.  
The mangled Ships nor fearing to be drentht,  
Gladly take Breeches, thereby to be quenched.   

Thus much in general, I cannot choose  
But on particulars employ my Muse;  
As the wise Pilot watchfully doth mind  
To husband all th' advantages of Wind;  
Comes an unruly Shot, and him doth force  
To certain Death, change his uncertain course.   

The Master ranging up and down the Deck,  
And Wounded mortally, to him doth beck  
His Mate, who hasting to his aid in vain,  
Is there together with the Master slain;  
And having finished thus his lost life's date,  
Doth truly prove himself the Master's Mate.   

The Trumpeter with smart reviving sound,  
Quickening their dying Hearts, falls to the ground,  
Thinking to sound one life-infusing bout,  
His own Dead March he made it Echo out:  
And having lent his Trumpet so much breath  
In's life, it turned him some again in's Death.   

The Drummer with his nimble Hand repeating  
His doubled Blows, without compassion beating  
His harmless Drum, which seemed with groaning cry  
To murmur at his Master's cruelty.  
Immediately two Bullets rudely come,  
Tearing both Skin of Drummer, and of Drum.  
Drummer of Life, of Sound the Drum's bereft,  
So Drum and Drummer both are speechless left.   

Here comes a Captain with undaunted Face,  
Encouraging the Soldiers to the Chase;  
And being about to say, be brave, be bold,  
An untought ill-bred Bullet bids him hold:  
This Leader faithful to his utmost breath,  
Can only now leads men the way to Death.   

Some under hatches closed in despair,  
Mount up their Foes with Powder in the Air;  
Giving to them a strange unwonted Death,  
Who having Air too much, yet wanted breath:  
It seemeth yet that they no Damage meant 'em,  
Who the next way up into Heaven sent'um.   

These Men who chanced in the Ship to fall,  
The cruel Sea was made their Burial;  
And to the Waves without remorse were thrown,  
Slain by their Foes, and Drowned by their own.   

Some fearing Fire, into the Sea do fly,  
And so for fear of Death, fear not to die:  
See two which stoutly grapple, striving whether  
Should overcome, both fall i'th' Sea together;  
Embracing both, till they have lost their breath,  
And seem though Foes in Life, yet Friends in Death.  
Two Brothers slain, as they together stood,  
One than might swear, they were allied in Blood.   

See a poor man, with both Arms cut asunder,  
Distracted leapt into the Water under,  
Meaning to swim, but see the woeful Wretch,  
With how much toil he laboureth to stretch  
His raw Veined Stump; and catch to save his life  
Some kind remain o'th' Ship, but all his strife  
Doth make him sooner to be out of breath,  
And wanting Arms, he yet embraceth Death.   

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

What refuge now is left? when if they eat  
The approaching Sword, into the fire they run;  
Shunning the Fire they into Water fall,  
So no way wants a certain Funeral.  
Thus after strange unheard of sort they lie,  
And Death, by many Deaths, makes many dye,  
The mangled Ships no longer can withstand  
Th'intruding Sea, and Mars his fiery brand.  
Some Fled, some Sunk, the rest amazed stood,  
Finding instead of Sea, a Sea of Blood.    

On that Truly Worthy, and approvedly Valiant Commander, Sir CHRISTOPHER MINNS, Knight, lately Deceased.  

Compel your Tears (like to his Foes) to fall,  
Helping to waft him to his Funeral;  
Remember what he did, let that excite  
In all men Courage, to gain Fame by Fight:  
Such was his Valour, not o'th' Furious Strain,  
The Hand that struck did first consult the Brain.  
Often encompassed round, he Victor stood,  
Painting the Decks with his pure (conquering) Blood.  
He, though alone, no succour need to crave,  
Eager t' Obtain a Victory, or Grave;  
Regarding less his own then Country's good,   

Maintaining it to the last drop of Blood.  
I can't Write more for grief, my blubbered Eye  
Nill's the enlarging of his Elegy:  
Nevertheless I (thinking on his Name)  
Shall his due Praise perpetually proclaim.    

Licenced,  
June 12. 1666.