Concordia rara sonorum, OR A POEM UPON The late Fight at Sea, between the two great Fleets of ENGLAND AND HOLLAND.  
By I. D. Esq  
LONDON, Printed for J. Ridley, at the Castle in Fleetstreet, near Ram Alley, 1653.   

A POEM, Upon the late Fight at Sea, between the two great Fleets of ENGLAND AND HOLLAND.  

WARS, worse than Pitch-feilds, on a moving plain,  
We sing, and for it; where two States retain  
In their own bowels their victorious shot,  
Vast Wounds, and horrid Death, yet feel them not.  
And, as Rome's pair with this point digged their grave,  
Caesar no first, Pompey no Peer would have:  
Just so 'tis here with us; Van-trump allows  
No State to his Superior; and Blake vows,  
Ours hath no equal: neither thus will veil,  
●ut lose a Fleet, rather than strike a Sail.  
Thus both march on, cutting deep Neptune's Brow,  
(Prodigious sight, to call't I know not how!)  
Whether two running Towns, or waving Woods  
Or rather Islands tumbling on the Floods.  
At whose approach the curled Billows roar,  
And, as they come, fearfully roll before.  
The oppressed towr-like whales lie bellowing unde●  
That Neptune seemed t' usurp his Brother's Thunder.  
The silent Fish, presaging future blood,  
Against their kind run frighted into th' 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,  
They fled apace, 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 feign have fled away;  
And the amazed shore, as each Fleet near sounds  
Almost forgot to keep's ordained bounds.  
One might have thought the Battle was begun,  
To see how Neptune first was through run;  
How the Stern brass his curled forehead toare,  
And trembling waves were struck by cruel oar.  
Each Fleet the Captains had divided soon,  
Into the form of an halfe-circled Moon:  
But as their furious horns together met,  
These two half Moons a full Moon did beget;  
Which like to that in Heaven, as it did go,  
Made the fleet waters strangely ebb and flow.  
Now as with proud advance they nearer came;  
Those Beasts which gave the saile-ruled vessels name,  
With an aspect more grim than is their life,  
As breathing nought but war, and baleful strife,  
Came fiercely forward all; as if from thence  
They meant to move their painted residence.  
The Lion, Elephant, and savage Hog,  
The Lybard, Tiger, Wolf, and cruel Dog  
Sternly affront each other; one might guess  
In midst of Sea a savage Wilderness:  
Wherein with admiration one might see  
So many a fierce wild Beast, so many a Tree.  
But now our valiant General traversing  
About the Fleet, encouraged them, rehearsing  
This speech; wherein he bravely did exhort  
To th' fight: which ready, cut the Oration short,  
Courage, brave English; 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, methinks, already fight.  
Look as ye do, and you shall never need  
Weapons, or hands, to make your foes to bleed:  
Your looks will strike them dead, and 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  
Afar, to mark which of you best shall render  
Thanks for her nurture, who shall best defend her.  
Them will she honour: bravely then drive bacl  
This Dutch Sea-monster; which is come to rack  
Your Nurse's entrails: comeed but once to Land,  
The very Earth will be afraid to stand  
Its cruel brunt; whether if reach it can,  
The blood and tears will make an Ocean,  
Deeper than this. I see'em now repair,  
(O let my Omen vanish into Air-)  
Unto your Land: see how the hogen's rage  
About your Coasts, sparing nor Sex, nor Age.  
See how they pull strong walls of Cities down,  
Leaving the men as naked as the Town.  
They raze your sacred Temples, and not leave  
A hallowed place, where after ye may heave  
Your hands for aid to Heaven; your Altars frames  
These wicked wretches with profaned flames  
Sacrifice to their anger; yea they dare  
To open ghostly Tombs, and thence lay bare  
Your Ancestors sad Coffins; whose dead ashes,  
Instead of tears, their children's blood bedashes.  
See how in few hours they act o'er again  
Each horrid passage, every bloody scene  
Of your late seven years Tragedy; and do out do  
What ere was left done, or undone by you.   

These things, which Heaven be thanked, I but suppose,  
Unless you help, will once advance your foes.  
Say that your Navy be far less than theirs;  
Have not great Ships amidst their swift careers  
Been stayed by little Remoraes'? Then on;  
And let not this cold Element, whereon  
We are to fight, quench those courageous flames,  
Which burn in every manly breast, which aims  
At immortality: but strike so stern,  
That the dumb Fishes may hereafter learn  
To speak your praises, and each wave report  
Unto its Neighbour, in how valiant sort  
Ye fought; till that the Ocean's utmost bound,  
And farthest Thule, with your fame shall sound:  
Yea that the Sun, When he at night shall press  
This way, may go and tell th' Antipedes,  
What acts he saw. Nor yet of aid despair;  
The Sea itself, if need shall ask, will spare  
A thousand of his streaming arms for you;  
All Fish prove Swordfish, to fight for our due.  
Think for no refuge here to fly; your hand,  
Not feet, must bring you bacl again to Land.  
No longer will the time with us dispense;  
What my speech wants, my Sword shall recompense.  
Now 'twixt a thousand lives, a thousand deaths,  
Of time one little winged minute breathes.  
The loud mouthed Gun only expects the fire,  
At touch of which, as burnt, it should expire  
Its skreiking voice, groaning that so much death  
Should be accomplished by th' infectious breath  
Of its dire mouth: Darts ready are to part,  
And hid their heads in some ill fortuned heart.  
Arrows and Muskets levelled, seem to kill,  
Before they can in act, in fiery will.  
One might have thought, viewing this fearful fight,  
IT had been the picture of a naval fight.  
But hark, the amazing signs of battle sound,  
Making the land remote, and rocks rebound.  
The shrill voiced Trumpet, and courageous Drum  
In barbarous language bid the Dutch to come.  
Death's horrid vizard now gins to appear,  
In their pale faces; terror, and ghastly fear  
In their amazed hearts do panting rise;  
And future blood-baths in their fiery eyes;  
Stern cruelty advanceth on their lids,  
With headlong fury stalking in the mids:  
Apelles present here, or one so skilled,  
Might have made pictures hence that would have killed.  
The thundering Ordnance now began to rend  
The amazed air; the flames before it sent,  
Seem lightning; and as deadly bullets fly,  
Prodigious hail seemed to pour down the Sky;  
Smoke made a Cloudy mist; and all together  
Seem on the Sea to raise tempestuous weather.  
To call for aid here, stands as much in stead,  
As in that place, where from a doubtful head  
The seven-mouthd Nilus with a desperate shock,  
Headlong doth tumble from the amazed 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,  
An inconsidered, silent funeral.  
Alas these Elements, which use t' uphold  
Our crazy lives with their just heat and cold,  
Making compact our body's constitution,  
Strive now to cause its utter dissolution.  
The quick and piercing fire, as it doth burn  
Their woeful carcases, doth freezing turn  
Their minds to quaking fear, and I'll despair.  
The liquid, flitting, and all-searching air,  
Admits remorseless shot, and murdering darts,  
Denying breath at last to cool their hearts.  
The thievish water, though it ran away  
With subtle shifts, did notwithstanding slay,  
And swallow most with a devouring flood:  
Only poor Earth, stark, still, astonished stood.  
Who viewing this, would not have thought a wonder,  
That without rain, wind, lightning, hail, or thunder,  
Or hidden shelves, or Rocks sea-ambusht back,  
Or any tempests, Ships should suffer wrack?  
That one might here have termed it, choose you whether,  
A stormy-calme, or calme-tempestuous weather.   

But now each Fleet, each Ship, with hopeful pride,  
Clash altogether furious side to side.  
Men now, with men contend, and Ships with Ships,  
One body 'gainst another: here one skips  
Into his enemy's Deck; but beaten back,  
He leaps to's own; of which if so he lack,  
He falls i'th' Sea: much like a wave, whose head,  
By urging winds unto the shore is lead,  
And thence by breast of the oft-drowned shore,  
Taking a blunt repulse, for spite doth roar;  
And staggering runs back; and is this all  
Ambition aims at, in the way to fall?  
Their tired senses laboured in such wise,  
As they grew dull with too much excercise.  
Their troubled eyes, viewing such ghastly sights,  
Wished that sad darkness cancelled all their lights.  
That horrid noise, the battle made, was such,  
Hearing heard nothing, 'cause it heard so much.  
Taste is of death; rank blood pollutes the smell:  
What feeling felt, they all did feel too well.  
Such a confusion racks their senses here,  
Th' had reason now to wish, they senseless were.  
Grim death in purple stalks upon the hatches,  
With pale and grisly looks see how he snatches  
Hundreds at once unto him; till the dreary,  
Lean-faced, ill-favoured death, of death grew weary.  
See on the Sea how thousand bodies float,  
From their great Ships, hasting to Charon's Boat;  
Which crabbed Scholar now doth think it meet,  
His old torn Boat should be new changed a Fleet.  
The tumults noise pierced the blue arched Sky,  
The Crystal air, styled with a deadly cry,  
Only in this was blest; as blows abounded,  
It could be ever cut, yet never wounded.  
The silent earth, glad that she was debarred  
From this sad sight, yet inwardly was heard  
The dreadful strokes, rebounding loud, to moon,  
And Echo made her yield a hollow groan.  
But this cause chiefly 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  
Appalling Shipmen, doth so much affright  
The soon-moved Sea, as did this battle's noise,  
Which Neptune answered with his bellowing voice;  
Who, as the Fleet urged nearer to the strand;  
With tumbling pace ran frighted up the sand:  
That had not bounds restrained his element,  
His watery veil had clothed the Continent.  
The fearful winds on the Ocean durst not room;  
But, lest they should be smothered, kept at home,  
And there sat sighing: Clouds their rain do keep,  
(Though ready at the battle's sight to weep)  
Lest their pure drops with gore-blood should be stained  
So that no winds blue, nor from Heaven it reigned.  
Marvel not yet at tempests on the flood,  
So many tears streamed, and such streams of blood;  
Nor without winds are waves to be admired,  
So many groans, and dying breaths expired.  
The Ocean's skaly, silent, wand'ring nation,  
Seeing pale armed troops invade the station  
Of their vast Kingdom, down the sanguine flood  
Fearfully glide, fearing their future food.  
The tender Nymphs, who with their silver feet  
Use on the plains of crisped Thetis meet;  
Where tripping prettily, they are 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.  
Yea Thetis self, whose womb enriched bare  
That fearful thunder of the Trojan war,  
Stubborn Achilles, who in fight did win  
Such glory, wished that wars had never been:  
So she, with all her trembling watery peers,  
Augment the brinish sea with brinish tears.  
Ships now begin to burn; that one might see  
Neptune's and Vulcan's consanguinity.  
Yea now those ships, which free from water stood,  
Strangely begin to sink with humane blood;  
Which, as from thence with fearful gush it ran,  
Filled up the wrinkles of the Ocean;  
Which Sea so full of dead, it hence might come  
Well to be called Mar e mortu●m.  
The quaking Ships with murmuring Guns are rend,  
Whose wounded sides the gored streams do vent  
Of dead, and wounded men; who lay therein,  
As if they had their Beers, or Coffins been:  
They lay therein; and as the Ships did go,  
Seemed bloody, bloodless, dead, and moving too.  
The furious flames with firedoth undermine  
The towering Mast, made of the lofty Pine;  
So that same tree, which oft lights Nuptials,  
Now Cypres-like doth burn at funerals.  
Thus eaten by the galling flames, at last  
Falls down the huge, high-mounted, weighty Mast;  
And, as great things are wont, fell not alone,  
Killing a troup, not of its foes, but's own.  
The tackle, sails, and cables, now do burn;  
And fire casts Anchors never to return.  
About their ears the whistling bullets sung;  
And wand'ring wildfire made the affrighted throng  
Crowd into corners speedily, and they,  
That durst stand men, to senseless fire give way.  
As when within the fat Trinacrian soil  
Inflamed Aetna doth begin to boil;  
When naked Pyracmon, with his round-eyed fellows,  
Sweeting, heave up their huge, strong-breathed bellows;  
Thundering upon their steely Anvils top,  
To furnish Armour for their smoky shop;  
Their ponderous hammers, and redoubling, makes  
Enceladus belch out his sulphury flakes  
Of vengeful wrath; then may you see black Smoke  
Vomiting out, wrapped in a pitchy Cloak;  
And the hard bowels of the mountain, torn  
By fettered fire, with a strange bounding borne  
Up to the clouds; whose fearful fall to shun,  
The Neighbouring people with amazement run  
To shrouding dens; hiding them closely under,  
Fearing from high, and from below a Thunder.  
Thus did the inhuman Battles fury rage;  
Nor could the Sea the increasing flames assuage.  
He, that would now have traveled to Hell,  
Might have seen weary, sweeting Charon swell  
In fervent labour, with his mossy oars,  
Tugging pale shadows to th' o're-swarmed shores;  
Which on the Banks as they lamenting crept,  
Wailing Cocytus in compassion wept:  
Acheron flowed with grief; and, as they say,  
Lethe herself will ne'er forget this day.  
The furies whined, by Pluto's judgement cast,  
Who swear their rage was fare by men surpassed.  
One coming here, might tired Clotho spy,  
How she could scarce her weary arms apply  
To turn the wheel; and Lachesis repine,  
Who swore she could not threads of mortals twine  
So fast, as they were cut; you might have seen  
Atropos raging with remorseless teen;  
And seeking each where for some greety Stone  
To whether Sheers; whose edge was dulled grown.  
With too much cutting of their fatal thread,  
Whose hapless lives this gastfull Battle shed:  
Fire now, and water did not each contend;  
But seem their power so mutually to lend,  
That at this time there many a one became  
Burnt in the Sea, and drowned in the flame.  
This one good hap to carcases did fall,  
Th' had fire to burn 'em at their funeral.  
The mangled Ships, not fearing to be drenched,  
Gladly take breaches, thereby to be quenched.  
The industrious Pilot, sitting at the stern,  
Where in a little Card he can discern  
The vast uncertainty of Neptune's haunt,  
Ruling swift Ships by powerful Adamant;  
Here as he sits retired, and watchful minds,  
The frequent change of two and thirty winds,  
Comes an unruly shot, and him doth force  
To certain death, change his uncertain course:  
So he, that wont stern blasts in truce to bind,  
Can not foresee when he should lose his wind;  
From storms and mists of death he could not free  
Himself, who want the tempests kerb; but he,  
Who bearding Neptune, used on the Ocean float,  
Is now controlled in Charon's little Boat.  
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 at once ended with him his lives date,  
Proving himself truly the Master's Mate.  
The Trumpeter, with brave reviving sound  
Quickening their dying hearts, is field to th' ground;  
And as in's mouth he still the brass did wield,  
His dying breath made it a dead march yield;  
And having lent his Trumpet so much breath  
In's life, it turned him some again at'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,  
Oth' sudden two rash 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.  
The Gunner, as with nimble hast he runs  
To fire his seldom vaine-reporting Guns;  
His head a leaden winged bullet hits,  
And his hard brain pan into pieces splits.  
He of a thousand this alone might vaunt,  
That of his death he was not ignorant:  
And this true Riddle might of him abide,  
He lived once by's death, by's life now died.  
Here comes a Captain, with undaunted face,  
Encouraging his Soldiers to the Chase;  
And being about to say, he brave and bold,  
An untaught bullet rudely bids him hold:  
And as deaths missed in his dull eyes did wander,  
Beseeching aid, he left to be Commander.  
And he whose voice from fainting thought to call them  
By's dying groan doth fearfully appall them.  
This Leader faithful to his utmost breath,  
Can only now lead them the way to Death.  
See how to steal the waving Flag, one climbs  
Up by the Cords; but being espied betimes  
Tangled i'th' ropes, he is of life bereft,  
And so is hanged for his intended theft:  
But the cords burnt, wherein his legs were bound,  
He gets a Pirates death, both hanged and drowned.  
Some, under hatches closed in despair,  
Moun● up their foes with powder into the air:  
Which done, it seemed a strange prodigious sight,  
A troup of armed men to mask the light:  
It seemed yet that they no damage meant them,  
Who the next way up into Heaven sent them;  
Making them fly, beyond Daedalian skill,  
In the vast air without a winged quill;  
Giving to them a strange unwonted death,  
Who, having air too much, yet wanted breath.  
See, see, the lot of sad mortality;  
Our chiefest helps help oft to misery.  
Some men, who came secure from future harms,  
Enrolled in well-proved steely-cloathed arms,  
Fall by mischance into the Seas dire hand,  
Whence being unarmed they might have swom to land.  
Their arms do sink, and without mercy end them,  
So killed by that which chief should defend them.  
One, with his Musket ready to give fire,  
Aims at another adverse Musketteere;  
But his Match missing flire, he's forced to die  
By the others Matches true fidelity:  
By which he died can scarcely well be known,  
Whether by the others Musket, or his own.  
See there a Coward, wanting heart t' abide  
The daunting face of the fierce adverse side;  
Slinketh behind the netx; not caring whether,  
Comes a mad shot and kills them both together.  
One, seeing now his side begin to fail,  
Shows them their Colours, while himself looks pale.  
Sure by this man some Omen ill was shown,  
To keep their Colours, who could lose his own.  
Those men who chanced in the Ship to fall,  
The cruel Sea was made their Burial;  
And into th' Waves without remorse were thrown:  
Poor men! slain by their foes, drowned by their own.  
A Fisherman, who nigh them cut the main,  
Sitting in's Boat, was with a Bullet slain:  
And the Bark fired, wherein he dead did fall,  
Which gratis, burnt, gave him his Funeral.  
True to thy Master, kind boat; who with him  
Didst oft in life, and now in death dost swim;  
With him alive in water that didst tyre  
Thy wave-beat sides, diest now with him in fire:  
Yet sail with him to Elysium, sail the faster;  
In Charon's stead that thou mayst waft thy Master.  
Strange boat! which thus we not amiss may call  
His life, death, Charon, and his Funeral.  
One, fearing death, doth feign to die, and bleed;  
And while he is in feigning, dies indeed.  
Another, fearing Swords, to th' Sea doth fly,  
And so, for fear of death, fears not to die.  
Some fall into the Ocean stained with gore,  
Which from their former wounds had gushed before:  
Which killed not them, as it from them was spilled,  
But entering into them again, they're killed.  
Here's one, about to strike his foe, doth fall  
Into the Sea; before he can recall  
His erring stroke, striking the Sea to stay him,  
The Ocean in revenge o'th' blow doth slay him.  
Another, being about to strike his foe,  
Loseth at once his arm, and threatening blow;  
His left arm shivering, reacheth at the other,  
But cut in twain, lies with its equal brother:  
Both joined, though both divided, as in spite  
Of death they meant to part their last good night,  
By shaking hands: the miserable trunk,  
As loath to part, fainting, upon them sunk.  
One, seeing them together thus, might say,  
There a whole body all in pieces lay.  
See, two with sturdy 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.  
Other two, who, so nigh resembling, were  
A loved mistake unto the Parents dear,  
Cruel death severed them; and that one left  
Poor Parents knew, of Error now bereft.  
He left, eternal cause of grief renews,  
Who still alive, still his dead brother shows:  
And yet to them this comfort still he gives,  
Th' one cannot die, so long as th' other lives.  
The wounded Soldiers, now that all else fails,  
To stop their wounds, do tear their woeful sails.  
Poor men! who, after they were overthrown,  
Had torn those wings, whereby they might have flown  
One, with his bleeding, ready to expire,  
Thinks with his blood to quench the Ship on fire;  
And so in midst of flames he bleeding stands,  
Tearing new wounds with his kind-cruell hands:  
And grieved to see his blood so little profit,  
He oft adds tears to help the quenching of it;  
Till at last fainting he is feign to fall  
Into the Sea, which made his Funeral.  
And bleeding in it from each mangled limb,  
He quenched it, and it extinguished him.  
See a poor Mar'ner, both arms cut asunder,  
Distracted leaps into the water, (under  
Meaning to swim:) but see the woeful wretch,  
With how much toil he laboureth to stretch  
His raw-veined stumps; which for his arms before  
Gush nothing now but streams of deadly gore.  
Feign would he catch, t' uphold his wavering 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 pardon on his knees.  
What refuge now is left? when, if they eat  
Th' 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 one man die.  
The mangled Ships no longer can withstand  
Th' intruding Sea, and Mars his fiery brand;  
But sinking downward, one might then have thought  
Them gone t' help Charon to waft over his fraught.  
Thus seven full hours the Sun endured to see  
(Nor longer would) such inhumanity.  
Therefore his Horses, bathing in their foam,  
With posting speed hast to their watery home;  
Where yet a while they all amazed stood,  
Finding, instead of Sea, a Sea of blood.   Hor. 2. od. 13. 
— Sed magis  
Pugnas, & exactos tyrannos  
Densum humeris bibit aure vulgus.  
Quid mirum? uhi illis carminibus stupens  
Demittit atras bellua centiceps  
Aures, & intorti capillis  
Eumenidum recreantur angues.  
FINIS.