TO God alone let us all Glory give,  
By whose permission we poor Mortals live,  
And tho' our Enemies may swell with Pride,  
〈◇〉 soon can compass them on every side.   

King William is the Glorious Instrument,  
Which by the Providence of God was sent,  
To save our drooping Laws and Liberty,  
from French and Popish cruel Tyranny.   

W●●n in dark gl●omy Cells the Plots was laid,  
This Free-born Land and Nation to Invade,  
Bold britain sailed forth with her Royal Fleet,  
●●ich did the daring Enemy defeat.   

Renowned RUSSEL, let them understand,  
That for the Honour of his Native Land,  
T●o' Smoke and flamme, he could with Courage go,  
To face proud Lewis that insulting Foe.   

No ●ear or Favour could his Actions sway,  
N●r could he in the least be drawn away  
From acting like a Noble Hero bold,  
For all the promised Gifts of cursed Gold.   

My, Vali●nt Ashby, let them feel his Rage,  
While De●th, he rid in Triumph over the Stage  
O● the F●●nch Navy on the Ocean Main,  
A●d English Boys did Victory obtain.   

The Spirits of the French began to faint,  
So that they prayed to every P●pish Sain●,  
To help them in a time of sad Distress;  
Yet th●y were burnt and beaten ne'ertheless.   

Admiral Carter Fought them through and through,  
The like of him before they never knew;  
His Chain-Shot did their Ships i● pieces ●●ar,  
As if great Jove with Thunder ●●d been there.   

Brave Delavall met with the Ri 〈…〉 g-Sun  
Of France, who to the shore for 〈…〉 lter run,  
With many more, which in a 〈…〉 ly flamme  
He soon did set, our Glory to p●●claim.   

Sir Clously Shovel, with a Valiant heart,  
In this most Glorious Conquest bore a part;  
His roaring Cannons sunk them in the Main,  
From whence they never can r●●●rn again.   

The Force of France he never was known to sea●,  
But like a stout Commander, v●w 〈◇〉 to clear  
The Seas of French, or they ●hould make his Grave  
And Monument in a rough ●oaring W●●e.   

The next was Rook, that brave heroic Soul,  
Who none alive could eve● yet control;  
A Dozen men of War of France he burned,  
Who e'er next day was all to Ashes turned.   

The F●ench was followed to their very shore,  
pursued with Gun●, which did like Thunder roar  
Such Admirals before was never known,  
They scared Old Lewis, nay, and shook his Throne.   

Nor were the Valiant Dutch-men far behind,  
They on the Ocean bear a Noble mind;  
True Sons of Thunder, that will not retreat,  
Until they see their Foes destroyed and beat.   

Tho' th●● had once been Wounded on the Main,  
Like Sol●●ers, they resolved to bleed again,  
Or bring the proud insulting Tyrant low,  
Who strives to seek all Europe's Overthrow.   

Those Valiant Souls let all good Men commend,  
Their Lives they ventured freely, to defend,  
Religion, Laws, and likewise Liberty;  
'tis better die, than live in Slavery.   

But God above I hope will ever bless  
Our Arms by Sea and Land with good Success;  
That Victories may constantly increase,  
Till War is swallowed in a Glorious Peace.   

Now for King William let all Subjects pray,  
That God would Guard his Person night and day,  
From all false Friends, and likewise open Foes,  
Let Angels Guard him wheresoe'er he goes.    

London, Printed for P. Brooksby, J. Deaco●, J. Bla●e, and J. Back●. 1692.