A POEM.
BEING An Essay upon the present VVar with THE DUTCH, Since the first Battel and Victory obtained by His Highness Royal, June 3. 1665.
Continued to and upon the late Happy Victory, OBTAINED BY His Majesties Forces at Sea, under the conduct of his Highness Prince Rupert, and his Grace the Duke of Albemarle, July 25. 1666.
By JOHN EAMES.
Haec in Primitiis Tentamina parva manebunt,
Juven.
LONDON, Printed for Henry Herringman, and are to be sold at his Shop at the Sign of the Anchor on the Lower walk of the New Exchange. 1666.
A POEM. Being an Assay upon the present War with THE DUTCH, Since the first Battel and Victory obtained by HIS HIGHNESS ROYAL June 3. 1665.
SCarce the black Curtains of the Night were spred,
When drowsie Poppy round my Temples shed
A solemn sleep; from whose dark womb a dream,
The soul from her close mansion did redeem:
This eager vapour archt the burnisht Sky,
From either Pole extended to the eye;
Thence the glad Sun had banish'd drery night,
And no dull shadow durst impeach his light.
The Sea I saw as calm as when the Wind,
Sports with the Spring, and to soft Buds is kind;
Whilst
Thetis rock't on wanton Billows plays,
And mirth through shining troops of Nymphs conveighs:
Neptune, and all that watry hoast beside,
In triumph ov'r that Azure Empire ride.
This Pompous shew of wonder and delight,
Ushers a winged Forrest to my sight;
[Page 2] Whose Aspect joyful characters betray'd,
For a late Combate which that tryumph made:
It was the Navy on the Ocean spred,
Which from pursuing of the
Dutch was led
By ROYAL YORK; whose awful Brows retain,
The growing Emblems of the conquer'd Main.
And whilst ambitious Gales this prospect blew
To the glad Ports, my fetter'd eyes pursue;
Till shouts and thunder eccho'd from the Shore,
The Soul to her first faculties restore.
Awak'd (though not like those whose sullen phlegm
Draws sacred precepts from a guilty dream)
My Numbers are encourag'd to relate
The wandring homage of the
Belgian State.
How from remotest shores Attonements come,
And center in our Channel as their home;
Whilst fear instructs their anger to forsake
The
Straight, as Fowls abhor
Avernus Lake:
How they believe the Pole, and think to find
No Storm to urge the murmurs of their mind.
Trusting the North as the securer way,
They court the night for treasures of the day;
Sweet Spices, Gums, and all the Sun can boast,
Or the Indulgence of the
Indian Coast,
Pay tribute to their hopes; which least they may
Perish near home in wither'd
Norway stay:
Where that rough Satyr
Bergen, is possest
Of the rich spoils of the luxurious East.
The Port was the dark burden of that womb,
Whose liquid bowels are the greedy tomb
Of trade and hope, by Art improv'd to be
From Foes a Refuge, boisterous Winds and Sea.
The worth and safety, though not equal Fate
Of this fair prize, might
Jasons emulate;
That yellow fleece Bulls hoof'd with thunder kept,
And a more watchful guard that never slept;
[Page 3] This cloister'd in the hostile Harbour lay,
Maintain'd by Castles and a treacherous way.
The
English that this proud return did wait,
(More conscious of revenge than guilty fate)
Attempt with one bold Squadron of their Fleet,
To render vows though not their hopes compleat;
Obsequious to their courage, they dispence
Through the sad lake a bloody influence;
Which tears in sight of the unfaithful shore,
And spoils the fraught we would have sav'd before.
Art, fury, all to ruin had design'd
Those joys of peace, but the mamour'd wind,
Which like a Phaenix in that nest would lye,
And with a surfeit of those odors, dye;
Thus jealous grown, does with full cheeks oppose,
Those flames which ships dissembl'd to our foes.
Retreating thence as Lions, which some Wile
Or Stratagem did of their Prey beguile.
We cleave the briny Element to meet
Dodona sacred to our
Jove, the Fleet.
The
Dutch at home improve their Hulls with Men,
And Rigg their vanquish'd Ruins out agen;
Not to impeach our bays, but to Convoy
The frighted Barques we labour'd to destroy.
Arriv'd they tell their joy, and wing their Sails
With greeting shouts, that breath conspiring Gales;
When Heaven (to shew how frail Mens passions are,
How soon proud hope is chang'd to sad despair)
Contracts his brow, and buries in a cloud,
The worlds bright Eye; whilst
Aeolus aloud
Proclaims his challenge through the troubl'd Main,
That now repeats their danger once again.
The clouds drawn down upon the labouring deep,
Divide (as Shepherds scatter'd from their Sheep)
[Page 4] The armed Convoys from the wealthy Fleet
Which beg from the wild Contest a retreat,
With sighs that break th' abortive womb of fear,
When
English Frigats, louder storms, appear.
Some the loud summons of our Cannon wait,
Others with dread and silence watch their fate;
Those that got safe and 'scapt both Enemies,
Paleness and grief entitl'd to the Prize.
So shiptwrackt Men which safely swim to shore,
Their treasures in hoarse Surges lost deplore.
Now
Titan in his oblique course had stray'd,
From the just ballance of the days, and made
The sullen brow of Winter to maintain
The priviledge of Naval wars in vain:
For the incensed
Dutch invade the Skies,
And their wise rage the blackest storm defies;
Cloudy Orion with their Fleet they dare,
And Regiments of fish disbanded are
To their revenge and fate; loud Engines roar
On bleating Cattel objects on the shore.
Thus we
Caligula in Records view,
(His Legions in Battalia) to subdue
The harmless Ocean, when their Helmets bore
Trophees of Cockle from our Neighbour shore.
The aged Solstice gone, new months supply
The teeming Earth with visits from the sky,
Soft Zephyres breathing on the opening Scene
Of fragrancy, with blushing vestures, green;
The softer bosome of the Earth is charg'd
With buds from blossomes tenderly enlarg'd:
The painted flowers with their early pride,
Steal from their prisons to adorn the bride,
Nature; whose youth (propensive to increase,
And celebrate the Festivals of Peace)
[Page 5] Does with unwilling looks new vigor give,
When war's cold embers in fresh flames do live;
But time and war one strict resemblance hold,
And in Eccentrick Circles both are rowl'd:
Strife moves a milder course when leafs appear,
And silent sleeps, when Storms infest the Year.
The Spring our Navy from its moist aboad,
To
Neptunes spacious Courts invites abroad;
Where floating (thus sick fortune prov'd unkind)
Another way one Squadron is design'd.
The wary
Dutch the silent Ocean shade
In Castles lin'd, with Nations for their aid,
So bold; hope seem'd espous'd and banish'd fear:
The Duke still constant in them both drew near;
His courage like a Rock frowns on the Main,
Storms in their wildest fury to restrain.
Approacht the business of the day is ply'd,
With terror, noise and death on either side;
In Sable shades of rowling smoak they fight,
Till they Anticipate the wings of night;
And when the stifl'd Sun had cleans'd his beams,
From their pollution in th' Hesperian streams,
Aurora, Heaven with guilded lustres grac'd,
Which were again by
Stygian rage defac'd.
The
Belgian courage shone like flames which rise
From wood, and not improv'd by Bellws, dyes:
The
English burns like oyl, nor needs the Name
Of wind or wine-improvements to a flame;
Nor ebbs and flows with fortunes erring tides,
But 'bove the power of her Empire rides:
So small our force that could we own her frown,
The bold Attempt might teach the world Renown.
The
Heroe manag'd by his prowess steers,
And the safe bulwark of his Charge appears;
[Page 6] His Conduct such, his Antique Lawrels now
Spred to defend as well as Grace his brow:
Wont to reprove the clamors of the sky,
Here his bold wreaths a louder fate defie.
Now shifts the doubtful Scene, and we discry
The message of new hopes hang in the sky:
So shews the radiant Ensign of the day,
When Storms submit to his Majestick ray.
The
Prince appears, with whom whilst we unite,
The
Dutch like Theeves are Victors made by flight;
With full spred Sails they leave the dreadful News,
Panting Revenge as hastily persues,
And summons to repeat the Tragick-Play,
Whilst the confused Sea and Sun obey,
The Emphasis of rage, and all things there
Dissolv'd from their first principals appear.
The colder Element becomes the Stage,
On which the first dares improve his rage.
The heavy bowels of the Earth do fly,
(As though they center'd upward) through the Sky.
Those fatal druggs which wretched Arts compose,
To wing those fates that pregnant Guns inclose,
To the dull Earth once quiet Tenants were;
Now in thick Mists inhabiting the Air,
Obstruct the passage of prevailing fire,
Which lost in its own bowels climbs no higher.
Those stately Piles of wonder and delight,
Which on the rowling Billows did invite
The silver-footed Nymphs to feast their eyes,
And doubt them of their watry Dieties;
[...]nt stain'd with gore, and loud with groans appear
No more their objects of delight, but fear.
There flaming
Aetna and
Vesuvius seem
Belching out smoak and fire on the stream:
[Page 7] The
Portholes flames, and iron showrs dispence
As burning Caverns do curl'd Cinders thence.
Here burning Pines sad Fun'ral Rites supply;
There Tumults of one wound together dye:
Some climb the waves, and in their Bowels meet
The fate from which their hasty fears retreat.
Confusion spreads her Sable Plumes, as Night
And clouds obscure the Canopy of light;
Through which black vail (so burning Meteors blaze,
And Mortals with approaching ills amaze)
Shines
Rupert like another
Jove, from whom
The
Dutch by thunder do receive their doom:
His floating Tower is the sphere which hides,
Whole flakes of dying fury in its sides;
His Martial influence by Heaven sent,
Taught the Capricious Goddess to repent.
So the
Dictaean God did
Iris send,
When victory to either side should bend.
Live the blest Theme of the
Castalian Spring,
You that were made your Countrys Offerring!
Though dying in a croud, may every Name
Swell the immortal Heraldry of fame;
Whose wings now open to salute our shore,
Laden with homage as the year before:
Whilst the success, mysterious
Holland (wise
[...]n figures) by Synecdoche belies;
And with
Italian Arts betrays the world,
Through which her subtile Characters are hurl'd.
Nor had the bays obey'd the doubtful laws
Of disputation, whilst the weary Cause
[...]nt'rest and Envy urge; but the dispute
Must have slept quiet in a loud persuit,
Had not those lofty Firrs, which crown'd of late,
[...]ome mighty Grove stoopt to their second Fate,
[Page 8] And prostrate on the Deck disarm'd the wind,
And the two
Heroes to their Rage confin'd:
Whilst the
Batavians with their shatter'd Fleet
First leave the Seas, and to their Ports retreat.
PAle Phaebe had not twice her silver gleams
Of light replenish'd by her Brothers Beams,
When the
Dutch Navy reacht the
British Coasts,
Proud to deceive the Christian World with boasts,
To mend the Errors of this fatal Chance,
After some time our ready Sails advance;
While the dull
Belgians with a guilty look
(Like one in his own politicks mistook)
Survay the motion of this dreadful Fleet,
By which they must their shame or ruin meet:
They gaze like men, whose wandring sight betray'd,
By the vast distance of the object made,
To think that but some rising Bank, which nigh,
Results a Hill, whose Fore-head beats the Sky.
At Sea the Day propitious to their Rage,
These floating Armies furiously engage;
Whilst Artick and Antartick Kingdomes wait
(With Continents between) to know the Fate
Of the loud Combate, and the Nations, who
Parcel the Regions which they ne'r subdue.
So
Pompeys Gallants did old
Rome divide,
When the
Pharsalian Victor spoil'd their pride.
Not many Hours blood and ruin breath'd,
The waves discolour'd, human Bowels sheath'd
With flying Balls; but triumph and success,
With all their Marks our Generals do bless:
These
Heroes lodg'd within that ample Frame,
Whose Pride displays our mighty Monarchs Name
[Page 9] (No Vulgar Crowds fit for their Nobe Rage)
The Chieftain of the
Belgian Fleet engage.
Courage does Heaven oblige, and such Attempts
Like future Faith from threatn'd Harms exempts.
Now Death on the pale wings of lightning flies,
And fatal storms of Thunder wound the Skies.
The Royal ship such heavy Ruins throws,
De Ruyter can no longer bear the blows;
But spreads his Canvas to intreat the wind
From following foes security to find.
Some as they flye we seize, the rest that reach
Their Ports, the fatal Overthrow do preach;
With which alarm'd, their Beacons burn on shore,
Afraid of what they threatn'd us before.
One Squadron of their Fleet by Heaven design'd
To a more Cruel Fate remains behind;
With which the Admiral of the blew contends,
Who burns, and sinks, and with his Ordnance rends;
Till the maim'd Remnant with obedient Sails
Implores the succours of assisting Gales.
Here one might see those solid Planks the Grace,
And latest Pride of
Thames persue the Chace;
Whilst the Ambitious Air before their Ports,
With our Victorious Flaggs and Standart sports:
The Chieftains now dispencing as they please
The fate of all that float the vanquish'd Seas.
To the KING upon the same.
GREAT SIR! to whom as the first source we owe,
What by degrees descends on us below;
Olympus owns a Tryumph in Your Name,
And eccho's to the joy our shouts proclaim.
Nations will now their Neutral Arts forget,
As streams their Currents in one Ocean met.
Spain will desert her Phlegm to reach that shore
Whose Kindness ruin'd Nations can restore.
France that forgot her Annals may advise
With her old Ruins, and too late grow wise.
Denmark (whose white and aiery Mountains dare
Sin to another
Babel in the Air)
Her angry Rocks may quarrel with the Sea,
But from Your Influence cannot be free.
Now
Amphitrite is Your own, You may
Teach Kingdoms with Your Trident to obey:
The
Gordian Knots their Interests have tyed,
Your Power is extended to divide;
Whilst Your Victorous Frigats press the Main,
Your Title to that Empire to maintain.
FINIS.