AN HEROICAL SONG On the achievements of his most Excellent highness James DUKE OF YORK, ADMIRAL of Castille.  

COme rare invention some sprightly strain,  
The mighty Cleveland's pregnant brain,  
To speak great York, St. James for Spain,  
Whom we will have again.   

The Glorious Lustre of whose whitest Rose,  
Stalked upon prickles to our late Red Nose,  
Too fragrant for the Breech without a Hose,  
Returned in spite of Foes.   

Forced by his barbarous Country to Exile,  
And leave a wretched, self confounding Isle,  
Now the high Admiral of great Castille,  
Fortune's first pleasing Smile.   

A Prince, whose Infant cries were sounds of war,  
His swaddling Clothes were harness, a la guarre  
Wer's first plain words, the Martial star  
At's getting helped C. R.   

Sprung from the loins of Henery le grand,  
That valorous Captain, to whose sovereign hand,  
France owes its present greatness and Command,  
And we th' hope of our Land.   

His other Grandsire, that peacemaking King,  
That did the two discordant Nations bring  
To unity, from whose most royal spring  
Such streams derive to him.   

But the immediate Parents of this Prince  
Were the great matchless couple, Innocence  
And wisdoms Patterns, in whose just defence,  
honey soit qui maly'a pense.   

He Charles the good, She Mary good and great,  
Once the sole ornaments of this wanton State,  
She still survives his most unworthy fate,  
For him we mourn too late.   

Their sublimate perfections thus combined  
And all their several virtues here we find  
Centred in him, whom Nature had designed  
But one degree behind.   

His Childish plays were Stratagems and Arts,  
Where he was always taking Forts, our Hearts  
His Tennis Balls resembled Warlike Darts,  
Disguised, and so departs.   

Dressed like a little Lady in a Gown,  
('Twas Pallas sure) he left this thankless Town  
To keep a head as a reserve to th' Crown,  
If it descended down.   

Then traced the world, and foreign places see,  
Examined Courts, and their State mystery  
A privy Counsellor in's minority.  
Now just past twenty three.   

Since which, the French and bloody Flandrian Field,  
Have seen him a Victorious Sword to wield,  
Death like the Gorgon's Head placed in his Shield,  
Compelled the Foe to yield.   

With what undaunted valour did he set  
Upon the Dunkirk Camp what ere he met  
He overthrew, nor did their force him let.  
But Fortune did forget.   

Forced to give o'er th' attempt, and to retreat,  
How did he change not leave the battle's seat,  
And the advancing Enemy still rebeat,  
And saved the defeat.   

The amazed Belgicks wondered to behold  
His glorious valour, and their hands uphold  
T'T'heaven for safety, fearing him too bold,  
And wished our Pistols into Gold.   

But as if the Earth Elements could not suffice  
His Macedon Spirit, the great Ocean cries  
Let me pay tribute to his fame, and rise,  
High with my richest prize.   

Now the great James is launched into the Main  
St. James, Patron and Admiral of Spain  
St. George for England we still will maintain.  
Till we see great Charles again.    

LONDON. Printed by Henry Blunt, 1660.