INSTRUCTIONS TO A PAINTER, For the Drawing of the POSTURE & PROGRESS OF His Ma.tie Forces at Sea, Under the Command of His Highness Royal.  
Together with the BATTLE & VICTORY Obtained over the Dutch, June 3. 1665.  
Ut, qui vos, Imperatores vestros, & Anglorum Res gestas semper ornavit, Humanitate vestrâ levatus, potius quam acerbitate violatus esse videatur.  Cicero pro Arch. Poet. 
By EDM. WALLER Esq  
LONDON, Printed for Henry Herringman, at the Anchor on the Lower Walk of the New Exchange. 1666.   

INSTRUCTIONS TO A PAINTER, For the Drawing of the Posture and Progress of His Ma.tie Forces at Sea, Under the Command of HIS HIGHNESS ROYAL.  
Together with The Battle and Victory obtained over the Dutch June 3. 1665.  

FIrst draw the Sea, That portion which between  
The greater World, and this of ours is seen;  
Here place the British, there the Holland Fleet,  
Vast Floating Armies, both prepared to meet:   

Draw the whole World, expecting who shall Reign,  
After this Combat, o'er the Conquered Main;  
Make Heaven concerned, and an unusual Star  
Declare th'Importance of th'approaching War:   

Make the Sea shine with Gallantry, and all  
The English Youth flock to their Admiral,  
The Valiant Duke, whose early Deeds abroad,  
Such Rage in Fight, and Art in Conduct showed;  
His bright Sword now a dearer Interest draws,  
His Brother's Glory, and His Country's Cause.   

Let thy Bold Pencil, Hope, and Courage spread  
Through the whole Navy, by that Hero led;  
Make all appear, where such a Prince is by,  
Resolved to Conquer, or resolved to Die:   

With His Extraction, and His Glorious Mind  
Make the proud Sails swell, more than with the Wind;  
Preventing Cannon, Make His louder Fame  
Check the Batavians, and their Fury tame:  
So hungry Wolves, though greedy of their Prey,  
Stop when they find a Lion in their way.  
Make Him bestride the Ocean, and Mankind  
Ask His Consent, to use the Sea and Wind:  
While His tall Ships in the barred Channel stand,  
He grasps the Indies in His Armed Hand.   

Paint an East-wind, and make it blow away  
Th' Excuse of Holland for their Navies stay;  
Make them look pale, and the Bold Prince to eat,  
Through the cold North, and Rocky Regions run;  
To find the Coast where Morning first appears,  
By the dark Pole the wary Belgian steers,  
Confessing now, He dreads the English, more  
Than all the Dangers of a Frozen Shore,  
While from our Arms security to find,  
They fly so far, they leave the Day behind:   

Describe their Fleet abandoning the Sea,  
And all their Merchants left a wealth Prey;  
Our first Success in War, make Bacchus' Crown,  
And half the Vintage of the Year our own:   

The Dutch their Wine, and all their Brandee lose,  
Disarmed of that, from which their Courage grows;  
While the glad English, to relieve their Toil,  
In Healths to their great Leader drink the Spoil:   

His high Command to Africk's Coast extend,  
And make the Moors before the English bend,  
Those Barbarous Pirates willingly receive  
Conditions such, as we are pleased to give;  
Deserted by the Dutch, let Nations know,  
We can our own, and their great business do;  
False Friends chastise, and common Foes restrain,  
Which worse than Tempests did infest the Main.  
Within those straits make Hollands Smyrna-Fleet  
With a small Squadron of the English meet;  
Like Falcons these, those like a numerous Flock,  
Of Fowl, which scatter to avoid the Shock;   

There paint Confusion in a various shape  
Some sink, some Yield, and flying some Escape:  
Europe and Africa from either Shore  
Spectators are, and hear our Cannon roar,  
While the divided World, in this, agree,  
Men that fight so, deserve to Rule the Sea.   

But nearer Home, thy Pencil use once more,  
And place our Navy by the Holland Shore;  
The World they compassed, while they fought with Spain,  
But here already they resign the Main:   

Those greedy Mariners, out of whose way,  
Diffusive Nature could no Region lay,  
At home, preserved, from Rocks and Tempests lie,  
Compelled, like others, in their Beds to die;   

Their single Towns th' Iberian Armies pressed,  
We all their Provinces at once Invest,  
And in a Month, Ruin their Traffic, more,  
Then that long War, could in an Age before.   

But who can always on the Billows lie?  
The watery Wilderness yields no supply;  
Spreading our Sails, to Harwich we resort,  
And meet the Beauties of the British Court,  
Th' Illustrious Duchess, and her Glorious Train,  
Like Thetis with her Nymphs, adorn the Main;  
The gazing Sea-gods, since the Paphian Queen  
Sprung from among them, no such sight had seen;  
Charmed with the Graces of a Troop so fair,  
Those deathless Powers for us themselves declare,  
Resolved the Aid of Neptuno's Court to bring,  
And help the Nation where such Beauty's spring:  
The Soldier here his wasted Store supplies,  
And takes new Valour from the Lady's Eyes:   

Mean while, like Bees, when stormy Winter's gone,  
The Dutch (as if the Sea were all their own)  
Desert their Ports, and falling in their way  
Our Hamburgh Merchants are become their Prey;  
Thus flourish they, before th' appoaching Fight,  
As dying Tapers give a blazing Light.   

To check their Pride, our Fleet half Victualled goes,  
Enough to serve us, till we reach our Foes,  
Who now appear, so numerous and bold,  
The Action worthy of our Arms we hold;  
A greater Force, then that which here we find,  
ne'er pressed the Ocean, nor employed the Wind.  
Restrained a while by the unwelcome Night,  
Th' impatient English scarce attend the Light;   

But now the Morning, Heaven severely clear,  
To the fierce Work Indulgent does appear;  
And Phoebus lifts above the Waves his Light,  
That he might see, and thus Record the Fight:   

As when loud Winds from different Quarters rush,  
Vast Clouds encountering, one another crush,  
With swelling Sails, so, from their several Coasts,  
Join the Batavian, and the British Hosts;   

For a lesle Prize, with lesle Concern and Rage,  
The Roman Fleets at Actium did Engage;  
They for the Empire of the World they knew,  
These for the Old, Contend, and for the New:   

At the first Shock, with Blood, and Powder stained,  
Nor Heaven, nor Sea, their former face retained;  
Fury and Art produce Effects so strange,  
They trouble Nature, and her Visage change:   

Where burning Ships the banished Sun supply,  
And no Light shines, but that by which Men die,  
There YORK appears, so prodigal is he  
Of Royal Blood, as ancient as the Sea,  
Which down to Him, so many Ages told,  
Has through the Veins of Mighty Monarches rolled;   

The great Achilles marched not to the Field,  
Till Vulcan that impenetrable Shield  
And Arms had wrought; yet there no Bullets flew,  
But Shafts, and Darts, which the weak Phrygians threw;   

Our bolder Hero on the Deck does stand  
Exposed, the Bulwark of his Native Land,  
Defensive Arms laid by, as useless here,  
Where massy Balls the Neighbouring Rocks do tear:  
Some Power unseen those Princes does protect,  
Who for their Country thus themselves neglect.   

Against Him first Opdam his Squadron leads,  
Proud of his late Success against the Swedes,  
Made by that Action, and his high Command,  
Worthy to perish by a Prince's Hand:   

The tall Batavian in a vast Ship rides,  
Bearing an Army in her hollow Sides,  
Yet not inclined the English Ship to Board,  
More on his Guns relies, then on his Sword,  
From whence a fatal Volley we received,  
It missed the Duke, but His great Heart it grieved,  
Three worthy Persons from His Side it tore,  
And died His Garment with their scattered Gore:   

Happy! to whom this glorious Death arrives,  
More to be valued than a thousand Lives!  
On such a Theatre, as this, to die,  
For such a Cause, and such a Witness by!  
Who would not thus a Sacrifice be made,  
To have his Blood on such an Altar laid?   

The rest about Him struck with Horror stood,  
To see their Leader covered o'er with Blood;  
So trembled Jacob, when he thought the stains  
Of his Son's Coat had issued from his Veins:   

He feels no wound, but in his troubled Thought,  
Before for Honour, now Revenge He fought,  
His Friends in pieces torn, the bitter News  
Not brought by Fame, with His own Eyes he views;  
His Mind at once reflecting on their Youth,  
Their Worth, their Love, their Valour, and their Truth,  
The Joys of Court, their Mothers, and their Wives  
To follow Him abandoned, and their Lives,   

He storms, and Shoots; but flying Bullets now  
To execute His Rage, appear too slow;  
They miss, or sweep but Common Souls away,  
For such a Loss, Opdam his Life must pay:  
Encouraging His Men, He gives the Word,  
With fierce intent that hated Ship to Board,  
And make the Guilty Dutch, with His own Arm,  
Wait on His Friends, while yet their Blood is warm:   

His winged Vessel like an Eagle shows,  
When through the Clouds to truss a Swan she goes;  
The Belgian Ship unmoved, like some huge Rock  
Inhabiting the Sea, expects the Shock:   

From both the Fleets men's Eyes are bend this way,  
Neglecting all the Business of the day,  
Bullets their Flight, and Guns their Noise suspend,  
The silent Ocean does th'Event attend,  
Which Leader shall the Doubtful victory bless,  
And give an Earnest of the Wars Success;  
When Heaven itself for England to declare,  
Turns Ship, and Men, and Tackle into Air;   

Their new Commander from his Charge is tossed,  
Which that young Prince had so unjustly lost,  
Whose Great Progenitors with better Fate,  
And better Conduct swayed their Infant State.   

His flight towards Heaven th' aspiring Belgian took,  
But fell, like Phaeton, with Thunder struck,  
From vaster hopes than his, He seemed to fall,  
That durst attempt the British Admiral;  
From her Broadsides a ruder Flame is thrown,  
Than from the fiery Chariot of the Sun;  
That bears the radiant Ensigh of the Day,  
And she the Flag that Governs in the Sea.   

The Duke ill pleased that Fire should thus prevent  
The work which for His brighter Sword He meant,  
Anger still burning in His valiant Breast,  
Goes to complete Revenge upon the Rest;  
So on the guardless Herd, their Keeper slain,  
Rushes a Tiger in the Lybian Plain.   

The Dutch accustomed to the raging Sea,  
And in black Storms the Frowns of Heaven to see,  
Never met Tempest which more urged their Fears,  
Than that which in the Prince His Look appears;   

Fierce, Goodly, Young, Mars He resembles, when  
Jove sends him down, to scourge perfidious Men,  
Such as with foul Ingratitude have paid  
Both those that Led, and those that gave them Aid;   

Where He gives on, disposing of their Fates,  
Terror and Death on His loud Cannon waits,  
With which He pleads His Brother's Cause so well,  
He shakes the Throne to which he does Appeal;   

The Sea with Spoil His angry Bullets strew,  
Widows and Orphans making as they go;  
Before His Ship, Fragments of Vessels torn,  
Flags, Arms, and Belgian Carcases are born,  
And His despairing Foes to flight inclined,  
Spread all their Canvas to invite the Wind:  
So the rude Boreas where he lists to blow  
Makes Clouds above, and Billows fly below,  
Beating the shore, and with a boisterous rage  
Does Heaven at once, and Earth and Sea engage:   

The Dutch elsewhere, did through the watery Field  
Perform enough to have made others yield;  
But English Courage growing as they fight,  
In danger, noise, and slaughter takes delight,  
Their bloody Task, unwearied still, they ply,  
Only restrained by Death, or Victory:   

Iron and Lead, from Earth's dark Entrails torn,  
Like showers of Hail from either side are born;  
So high the Rage of wretched Mortals goes,  
Hurling their Mother's Bowels at their Foes,  
Ingenious to their ruin, Every Age  
Improves the Arts, and Instruments of Rage;  
Death-hast'ning ills Nature enough has sent,  
And yet Men still a thousand more invent.   

But Bacchus now, which led the Belgians on  
So fierce at first, to favour us begun;  
Brandee and Wine, their wont Friends, at length  
Tender them useless, and betray their strength:   

So Corn in Fields, and in the Garden Flowers,  
Revive, and raise themselves with moderate Showers;  
But overcharged with never-ceasing Rain,  
Become too moist, and bend their heads again:   

Their reeling Ships on one another fall,  
Without a Foe enough to ruin all:  
Of this Disorder, and the favouring Wind,  
The watchful English such Advantage find,  
Ships fraught with Fire among the Heap they throw,  
And up the so entangled Belgians blow;  
The Flame invades the Powder-rooms, and then  
Their Guns shoot Bullets, and their Vessels Men;  
The scorched Batavians on the Billows float,  
Sent from their own to pass in Charon's Boat.   

And now our Royal Admiral, Success  
With all the marks of Victory does bless;  
The burning Ships, the taken, and the slain  
Proclaim His Triumph o'er the Conquered Main:   

Neerer to Holland as their hasty flight  
Carries the Noise and Tumult of the Fight,  
His Cannons roar, forerunner of His Fame,  
Makes their Hague tremble, and their Amsterdam;  
The British Thunder does their House's rock,  
And the Duke seems at every Door to knock;   

His dreadful Streamer like a Comets hair  
Threatening Destruction, hastens their Despair,  
Makes them deplore their scattered Fleet as lost,  
And fear our present Landing on their Coast.   

The Trembling Dutch th' approaching Prince behold  
As Sheep a Lion leaping towards their Fold;  
Those Piles which serve them to repel the Main  
They think too weak His Fury to restrain:  
What Wonders may not English Valour work,  
Led by th' Example of Victorious YORK?  
Or what Defence against Him can they make,  
Who at such distance does their Country shake?  
His fatal Hand their Bulwarks will o'erthrow,  
And let in both the Ocean and the Foe:   

Thus cry the People, and their Land to keep,  
Allow our Title to Command the Deep,  
Blaming their States ill Conduct to provoke  
Those Arms which freed them from the Spanish Yoke.   

Painter, excuse me, if I have a while  
Forgot thy Art, and used another Style;  
For though you Draw Armed Heroes as they fit,  
The Task in Battle does the Muse's fit;  
They in the dark Confusion of a Fight  
Discover all, instruct us how to Write,  
And Light and Honour to Brave Actions yield,  
Hid in the Smoke and Tumult of the Field.   

Ages to come shall know that Leaders Toil,  
And His Great Name on whom the Muses smile;  
Their Dictates here let thy famed Pencil trace,  
And this Relation with thy Colours grace.   

Then Draw the Parliament, the Nobles met,  
And our Great Monarch, High above Them set,  
Like young Augustus let His Image be,  
Triumphing for that Victory at Sea,  
Where Aegypts' Queen, and Eastern Kings o'erthrown.  
Made the Possession of the World His own.   

Last Draw the Commons at His Royal Feet,  
Pouring out Treasure to Supply His Fleet;  
They vow, with Lives and Fortunes to maintain  
Their Kings Eternal Title to the Main,  
And with a Present to the Duke approve  
His Valour, Conduct, and His Countries Love.    

To the King.  

GREAT SIR, Disdain not in this Piece to Stand  
Supreme Commander both of Sea and Land:  
Those which Inhabit the Celestial Bower,  
Painters express with Emblems of their Power;  
His Club Alcides, Phoebus has his Bow,  
Jove has his Thunder, and your Navy You.   

But Your Great Providence no Colours here  
Can Represent, nor Pencil draw that Care  
Which keeps You waking, to secure our Peace,  
The Nation's Glory, and our Trades Increase;  
You for these Ends whole days in Counsel Sit,  
And the Diversions of Your Youth forget.   

Small were the worth of Valour, and of Force,  
If Your High Wisdom Governed not their Course;  
You as the Soul, as the First Mover You  
Vigour and Life on every Part bestow,  
How to build Ships, and Dreadful Ordnance cast,  
Instruct the Artists, and Reward their Haste:   

So Jove Himself, when Typhon Heaven does brave,  
Descends to visit Vulcan's smoky Cave,  
Teaching the Brawny Cyclops how to frame  
His Thunder mixed with Terror, Wrath, and Flame.   

Had the old Greeks discovered Your Abode,  
Crete had not been the Cradle of their God,  
On that small Island they had looked with scorn,  
And in Great Britain thought the Thunderer born.   
FINIS.