SIGNAL DANGERS AND DELIVERANCES Both by LAND and SEA: Comprehending a short Account of the Raising of the SIEGE OF VIENNA. One of the most Memorable in this last Age. TOGETHER With a Description of a Violent TEMPEST on the FORTH. In two small POEMS by the same Hand. reprinted in the Year 1685. THE SIEGE and BATTLE OF VIENNA, BEING A short Description of the SALLIES of the DEFENDANTS, the Breaking up of the SIEGE; The ROUT of the VIZIER, and the whole OTTOMAN ARMY: By the Prodigious, and Prosperous VALOUR, of the Great, and Glorious KING of POLAND: (well worthy being GENERAL of the Forces, of all CHRISTENDOM, against these Infidels,) upon the 12. day of September, 1683. To the Tone of Armida. I. BAse Apostate Rebel, Count TEKLY by Name, PROTESTANTS shame: All CHRISTENDOMS Scandal, To find his IMPERIAL Landlord, new Work, Divorced all Religion, strikes match with the TURK: Quits Cross for a Crescent; the Sun for the Moon; The Truth for a Turban; takes Mecha for Rome. Paunds his Grace, and his GOD, and each glorious thing, For the Nickname, and Noise of a Titular KING. II. Thrusts his Head, (in a dread of the EMPEROR'S harms,) In the devils own Bosom, an Infidels Arms; Whose two hundred thousand, laid Siege to VIEN: Which nine Weeks was kept by fifteen thousand men: This huge torrent of Turks, all bristled with Steel, In maugre their numbers, brave Sallies did feel. For in all their Assaults, they found still to their Costs, Their Ma'met, unequal to our LORD of Hosts. III. O'er Bulwarks, and Rav'lins, and Ramparts, and Works, O'er Ditches, and Trenches, and Turbans of Turks, O'er Fields clad with Ir'n, Horse glittering with Steel, O'er Cannons, and Bombos, Granados that reel: Throw Hailshowrs of Bullets, and Tempests of Fire, Throw Mines and Scalados, Smoak, Sweat, and Desire: Throw Dangers, and Deaths, thousand Horrors, and Frays, Bold Hearts, make brave Hands, with sharp Swords cut them Ways. IV Yet th' Valiant Defendants, with stout Staremberdg, Whose Merit surmounteth a Glory that's large, With Famine and Watching, Wounds, Hazards, and Toil; Each spent to shadow, puts ten Turks to Foil. These Muslems dread trying Angels at Death. Such seemed these Ghosts, meagred with cleanness of Teeth. All at point of being starved, or slormed, or yield! Their Sign bids brave POLZKI, and Lorraine take Field. V Attacking the Viziers Quarters, so hot! That he fled with his Horse, and exposed his Foot: When Starmberg the Tutelar Glory comes up, With some five thousand Ghosts yet alive of his Troop; In a trice, many thousands of Turbans Dance rounds, And the Red Cross is signed on Mahometans Crowns. The Eagle and Ostrich, bath both in one Flood, Huge Rivers, and Seas, of the Musleman Blood. VI The GLORY of Poland, had thrice seen before, His Victorious Shadow, in Ottoman Gore: A Mirror, wherein (if a wish, GOD grant mine) All CHRIST'NDOMS Monarches, their Swords may see shine; Each Christian Blow, deals some one Turk a Death, And rids his black Soul of its rank Onion Breath. Dooms day which the Turks call a day of deceit, They now see and feel in their total defeat. VII. Heaven's Tutelar ANGELS of Glory come down! But their dread noise of Drums, the Trumpets voice drown. Their shining Swords light'n. loud Cannons do roar And thunder the Turks, both behind and before! The dark Clouds of Smoke, and of Dust doth arise! And thick Shawrs of Lead, dropping Blood blinds their Eyes: Huge flashes of Fire, a sulphurous smell, Tell the Turks to their Noses how near they're to Fell. VIII. Proud Nighing of Horses! sad Rattling of Arms, Crossed Banners displayed, pierce their Souls with Alarms. Their Hearts, Hands, and Swords shake and tremble apace, Pale Fate Prints their Brows with confusion of Face! The groans of the Dying, the falls of the Dead; Loud shouts of the Victors, wide Wounds gushing Blood! The flights of the Coward! the preass of the Strong, Makes Death deal all shapes of Amazement, in throng! IX. These Turk stroying Angels, rend Heaven with a shout, When the Ottoman Host's all at once put to rout: Their Scimitars droop, and their Muskets let fall! Quick Death leaves no respite to say their last * Alla The Name of GOD beginning the Turkish Prayers All.,— While they stagger, fall, spraul, and they die by degrees By whole Regiments at once, of their Cheats old Disease. In vain to their Rescue, their Prophets bid come: With their dying looks aimed toward Mahomet's Tomb. X. The stout King of Poland, with's wing-flying Horse, Doth Charge fight, and Wheel, with a Whirlwinds force They Curvet, they Prance, and they Stamp in the quick The Mahometans Souls, throw the Earth to old Nick: And Starbergs bold Ghosts, strew Fields, Posts and Trenches, With the Janisars Hides, and Timariot Paunches. They leap o'er the Lines, and they skip o'er the Ditches, And whip their revenge on the Turks naked Breeches. XI. Duke Lorraine, Prince Waldeck, do many brave Feat, At the Bast of the Court, and before the Scots Gate, Dispatching with speed, many thousand blind Souls, To Ma'mets' apartment in Hell, by vast Shoals: They trip to their Prophet the speedier way, And tell him for News! its the CHRISTIANS DAY. Camp, Cannon, Tents, Treasure's their Valour's just Prey, A Plague on base TECKLEY! may both the SIDES say. XII. All CHRISTENDOMS Triumph, the Walls of Vien, Sound this GLORY of KINGS, that Wonder of Men; Fame, Prowess, and Trophies, loud Praise, and raised Sorgs, To Poland's great PRINCE, and brave Starberg belongs. Home Vizier! and tell thy proud Sultan's rude Boasts, And Blasphemies heard by the LORD GOD of Hosts. To whom our Souls offer the Calves of our Lips, That our Sun shines in GLORY; their Moon's in ECLIPSE. XIII. If Christendoms Monarches, would ruin the Turk? Their ten thousand a piece, might do all the great work: And of each lesser PRINCE, Republic, Hans-Towns, Ten Colours of Foot, with ten Troops of Dragoons: Would these by next March, march at once to the Field, Glad Victims to GOD; Joy to Man it would yield: This Year, which our Aera computes eighty three! The last of the Turkish HIGIR A should be. Deo, Regi, & Ecclesiae. THE TEMPEST, Between BURNT-ISLAND And LEITH, IN A BOAT Called, The BLESSING. In November, 1681. By the same Author. reprinted in the Year 1685. THE TEMPEST, BEING An ACCOUNT of a dangerous PASSAGE from BURNT-ISLAND to LEITH, in a BOAT called the BLESSING: in company of CLAVERHOUSE, several GENTLEWOMEN, MINISTERS, and a whole THRONG of common Passengers. Upon the 26. of November, 1681. I Parted from my House, some Hours Day, Nou. 25. The rising Sun, saw me on Banks of Tay; When lo! a rustling surly West-wind blew, Whose every Sigh, white foaming Billows threw Like floating Fleeces, and these hoarse Waves Roar, A Tempest's Echo; dashed from Shoar to Shoar: No Boat dares pass; and what dare I? but stay; For though the Test bid Sail, the Wind said nay. My forced Stay, and better Hap together, Bring me t' a Reverend Lord, and Holy Father: Who had no sooner tendered some the Test; And me the least of all GOD'S Servants blest: When strait, a Silence followed in Heaven! The Waters wrinkled Visage looked even Like polished Marble; or the smoothest Mirror; My Thoughts burst Silence, midst a holy Terror. What sacred Seer! Oaths! Benediction's these! Whom Heaven, Air, Winds, and Waves, and Seas obeys! NExt Morrows Blessing quite another was! Nou. 26. On FORTH, where many more and I did pass: No sooner set we Sail, on Board the Blessing, When Aeolus set a Fowler's Cape on Fishing: And while we're scarce put forth without the Heads, Neptune spits o'er our Mast, his Watery Beads; SOoner than you can Wink; the furious Gale Like Shott unseen, till Felt, doth us Assail: And what on Shore seems but a Gust to them; 'S to Us a Storm, might bear a Tempest's name. We climb straight Hills of Seas! as if we meant T' Invade the heavens; and Scale the Firmament. And when we're on the Waves steep farther Breast, We seem to seek the Centre, for our Rest. We skipp on Seas proud tops, as if we flew! Anon plunged down, as if Hells-mouth we plew. A Wat'ry Dust, the Foaming Billows raise, Puffing Rain upwards; mingling Clouds with Seas Each Monstrous Mountain Wave, still upward hies. With Wat'ry Mouth, to kiss and wet the Skies. And underneath so deep a rolling Pit, That Hell's a shallowness, compared to it. THe Sea swells Babel's up, as if she meant To mingle with Seas above the Firmament; Then downward Rowls, as if she'd two Desires, To quench heavens highest, drown Hell's lowest Fires; And, as if Heaven, Earth, Water, Air and Spheres, Had (in a meddly) fallen about our Ears! The Universe sounds all one Cataract; And Nature seems to Chaos at the Crack. The great Turks Guns, would seem to us but Whispers, And loudest Thunders, to our Noise were Lispers: Rattling of Arms, Drums, Trumpets, Horses eyes, Loud Shouts of Armies vanquishd's Victors Cries! Fired Ships, sprung Mines, stormed Cities dreadful Voices! Might all strike Dumb to our loud Roaring Noises! Thousands our own Shrieks were, Sighs, Cries, Commands! Passers turn Pilots, Sailors silent stands. Some onward, backward, some to Seas; the Bark Thus floats, great Babel, in our little Ark; Which serves us now, for House, Church, Fortress, Beer, For all the World, to us, swims ventured here. Now hopes of Life, and fears of Death take leave; And each proud Billow, bids a humble Grave. WHen? as if Earth sighed all her entrails out, At her last Gasp meant to blow all Wind out! It blew, and blue, and roared, and rumbled higher, Then Heaven with overbreathing were t' expire: Sooner than you read this, three Giant Billows Might Cradled hugest Whales, or their Snow Pillows. Come on apace; each kept his Time, and Place, As if they meant to Drown us with a Grace. THe first, came tumbling on our Boats broadside; And knocked us twice her breadth and more aside; But vexed, that it had wrought's no more Disgrace! It spews on us, spits in its Follower's face, Like hundred Leviathans, in a Plump, Next make's near founder with its dreadful Thump; And we to pacify its angry Pride, Yield, Bow, and Fall; and lie upon our Side; THe third, as if some Sluice had drained the Deep: Rowls o'er our Heads, laid prostrate at its Feet: A sore Convulsion-fitt, now shakes our Ship! Our Mast an Ague! till the Sail down slip; A trembling Palsy seized it! and our Hold, Drunk with the Waves, a Salt hydropsy swelled: Like half drowned Mice! we're with salt Water choked, A Sport to Winds and Waves, our Barge scarce rocked; It jogged a little, risen at length by Stealth, Unfit to pledge the Seas another Health: Now one go down anew, without remeed Had quenched our Drought; and drunk, and drowned us Dead. We Hull a little, then with humbler Sail, 'Twixt Life and Death we sculk alongs the Gale: WEll Sea-skilled * The Skippers Name. Dowglas, and his Sailors had No thoughts but Death, amidst their Wat'ry Trade: ANd we who Preach to all, Contempt of Breath, Tremble but to touch, the easiest, softest Death! Unlike th' Apostles, we believed then, Fearing, Sea Monsters Mouths might Fish us Men; And Neptunes Tritons, ere we parted thence, Should proul's by Pole, and pick our Peter-pences. COurage is still the same on Land, at Sea, * Claverhouse. He who can boldly kill, dares bravely die: Yet he whose Ire hath smiled on Seas of Blood, Looks pale on Water, in his coolest Mood. Soldier's stern Fire, abhors the death of Slaves; It can't Resist, nor Vengeance wreck on Waves. Mars crops his Fame, on Camps, Fields, Cities high: But what's ten thousand Swords against a Sea? * Gentlewomen. FEmales fall flat and prone; if true they say? When drowned, their Corpse are ever found this Way; They lie along on Hatches, Hoodwinked Faced, Afraid to die, in their own presence placed. THus fall, so lie, the Horses flat in Hould, Aloft their Backs, Pitch-Casks with Seas are rolled; Casks full and empty, troul, swim, justle, knocks, Dashed 'gainst the Hatches sides, like Ships on Rocks. Buckets and Pump, are still employed in vain, Waves into Waves spewed, we drink up again: A Land locked Plash, stands prisoned in our Hold; Which as we Dance, the Waves doth joul and joul Our Inland Gulf, shows in Epitome Both Map, and Islands of the Midland Sea. We slowly trail alongst the Watery Hills, Clogged with a Pond, on Board, might stead some Mills. The Sea bears us, and we bear up a Sea Of many Tunns, to Leiths' Port, Custom free; We shake our Ears, Hats, , and in a trice, We creep on Shore, like Water ducked Flies. That we scap't Monsters, Maws, and our last Fishing, GOD, by good Dowglas, gave use't with a BLESSING. DEO, REGI, & ECCLESIAE.