joyful News for ENGLAND OR, A Congratulatory Verse upon our late happy Success in Firing 150 Dutch Ships in their own Harbours.  

OUr joys swell high, and now must needs run o'er,  
Since Seas make Bonfires greater then the shore,  
But shall we be out done? shall Neptune thus  
By joys bright flaming heralds rival us?  
It is our Glory, therefore let it be,  
The signs of his intended amity.   

whilst in contiguous bonfires all the Nation  
Paint their late joys, and sport in conflagration,  
( Former Fires scarce extinguished) there came  
True matter for new joy, and lasting shane  
To our vain Boasting Foes, who hence must know  
Th'ave paid us but in part, what they do owe.   

Let royalists now voluntary meet,  
And with fresh Wood the kind Devourer greet,  
Let us all study so to bear our parts;  
To make a consort of true loyal hearts.  
The Guns and Trumpets shall with warlike voice  
Contribute sounds; and help us to rejoice.  
And rather then want fuel in the close,  
I'll make a walking bonfire of my Nose.   

But some may ask, why we rejoice so much.  
Doth France recant? or beaten are the Dutch?  
Doth Denmark see his error and submit?  
Or the French King the Dutch Protection quit?  
I'll answer such with silence, and be gone;  
For were they deaf, they needs must hear what's done.  
The Startled States( again) shall never boast  
Of things nere done, bravad'ing on our cost.  
No more Apostate Holland shall proclaim  
Those partial conquests, which but brand her name.  
Now the Delusion's o'er, they plainly see  
What once they were, what now they ought to be.   

Draw up your sluices, ye may quench a flamme,  
But never hope to wash away the shane  
Ye have sustein'd, I think we need not come  
Again, by this y'ave foes enough at home:   

Appease your crying male contents with toys,  
And blind their eyes with mere invented joys.  
See whether that will take; but if it do  
I'll be of all Religions then, as you.   

You see your Allys will not spend their bloods,  
The wiser they; thus ye are left' ith' suds.  
This and much more ye justly have deserved,  
Though Vengeance Execution deferred.   

What, wrong a Prince, whose virtues may become  
A King that's fit to rule all christendom.  
So merciful, he by his acts did show  
He would convince ye, before he would subdue,  
But take what follows, give us leave to laugh  
Who win; our Souldiers are resolved to quaff  
At your expense, nay in your cups a while,  
whilst ye lament, they have good cause to smile,   

Thanks Peerless Prince for what thou now hast done,  
Go on and perfect what thou hast begun.   

Thanks to that Glory of the West, that Star  
By whose conductive influence we are  
Brought to enjoy our Seas, whose worth  
These Islands are too small to echo forth.  
So valiant, he lead our Navy through  
read seas of blood, and yet ne▪ re wet his shoe.   

Thanks to Sir Robert Holms, that worthy soul,  
Whom bribes could ne'er seduce, nor threats control.   

Thanks to the Rest, whose courage baffled fear,  
ne'er better pleased, then when their foes appear.   

'tis now my Leege they'l see that onely You,  
Can give them Pardon and Protection too.  
So let them live, and by your grace convince  
Their treacherous hearts, that they have wronged a Prince   

Printed with Allowance.    

LONDON, Printed by Peter Lillicrap, for Richard Head, 1666.