The RED-SEA:
OR THE DESCRIPTION Of a most Horrid, Bloody, and never yet paralel'd SEA-FIGHT BETWEEN THE ENGLISH & DUTCH.
With an Elegy on that truly Valiant and Renowned Commander, Sir Christopher Minnes, Who died in the Bed of Honour, in defence of his King and Countrey.
By R.H.
LONDON, Printed by Peter Lillicrap, and are to be sold at the Princes Arms in Chancery Lane, 1666.
To my truly worthy and ingenious Friend Mr. Richard Ʋvedale.
SIR,
THat nought can judge of Wit but Wit, 'tis true,
Wherefore these Lines I Dedicate to Tou.
My Subject's Valour, which therein is shown;
Valour and Wit are Properties You own.
Wherefore I hope, You will accept these Rimes,
Since Wit and Valour are Your onely Crimes.
Your most Affectionate Friend and Servant
R. H.
The RED-SEA: Or a Description of a most Horrid and Bloody Sea-Fight between the English and Dutch.
SOL well nigh swelter'd in his fiery team,
Hastned to cool himself
[...]'th' Western stream,
When there appear'd two large prodigious Woods,
Which strove to meet, floating upon the Floods.
The
Sun did hereupon more swiftly fly,
Frighted to see this
Sea-bred-Prodigie.
At whose approach, the curled Billows roar,
And as it comes, fearfully roll before.
The silent Fish presaging future blood,
Against their kind ran frighted in the 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,
In sholes they fled to shun the dreadful sight.
The
Oceans King feeling such weight on's back,
With leaning on his
Trident made it crack.
Had it not been immoveable, they say
The
Earth this time would fain have fled away;
Which with the Shore so trembled, you'd have said,
Fear, not inclosed Winds this
Earth-quake made.
These stately Ships were throng'd with Noble Spirits,
Whose onely aim was by their lofty merits
To out-live Fate, and for their Countries good,
Think it their glory to pour forth their blood.
These gallant Souls were all devote to give
Their own lives, that their Countrey-men may live.
Here then observe, which you may frequent try;
The worthi'st man most willing is to die.
Our
Admiral breaths forth a stout
All-arme;
The adverse Fleet Echo'd rebounding
Arm.
Thus at the
Gen'rals voice, the vulgar sort
To their assigned stations resort;
With quick confused hast, the tumult's led;
And speed, by too much speed, is hindered.
One might have thought the Battel was begun,
To see how
Neptune first was
thorough run.
Now as with proud advance they nearer came,
Those beasts which gave the Sail-rul'd-Vessels name,
[Page 4] With an aspect more grim, then is their life,
Made all their speed to make, then end the strife.
So fiercely they came on, as if from thence
They meant to move their painted residence.
Now bravely did the
General exhort
His men to courage (though his speech was short)
To this, or like effect—
Courage
Brave souls, and 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 me thinks already Fight?
Look as you do, and you shall never need
Weapons, or hands, to make your Foes to bleed.
Your looks shall strike them dead, your Warlike sight
Shall put your fearful Enemies to flight.
What ere you aime at, here before you lie,
Honor, Revenge, Spoil, Riches, Victory:
Which if they move not; see your Native Land,
Your Nurse, your Mother, see, how she doth stand
A far to mark which of you best shall render
His duty, striving who shall best defend her.
If you don't fight, your Foes won't mercy have;
If you won't fight, the Sea will prove your Grave;
Or else by
Justice domb'd to die: then on,
And let not this cold Element, whereon
You are to fight, quench those couragious Flames
Which burn in every manly breast, that aimes
At
Immortality; Fight and the
Oceans bound,
Nay farthest
Thule, with your fame shall sound.
The
Sun himself when he at night shall presse
This way, will go and tell the Antipodes
What acts he saw. Nor yet of aid despaire,
The Wind, and Sea (if need shall ask) will spare
The chiefest help (which they possesse) to you:
All Fish prove
Sword Fish, fighting for our due.
No longer will the time with us dispence,
What my speech wants, my Sword shall recompence.
Now did th' amazing signes of Battle sound,
Making the Lands remote, and Rocks rebound.
The shrill voic'd Trumpet, and couragious Drum
In ratling Language bid the Foes to come.
Deaths horrid Vizard now begins t'appear
In their pale faces; terrour, gastly fear
In their amazed hearts doth panting rise;
And future blood bathes in their fiery eyes.
Apelles present here, or one so skill'd,
Might have drawn Pictures hence, that would have kill'd.
The thund'ring Ord'nance now began to rent
The frighted Aire; the Flames before it sent,
Seem lightning, and as deadly Bullets fly,
Prodigious Hail seem to powre down the Sky.
Nilus ne're roared so much, when with a shock
Headlong doth tumble from the towring 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
In roaring Death a silent Funeral.
Alas! those Elements which use t' uphold
Our crasie Lives with their due heat and cold,
Making compleat our Bodies constitution,
Strive now to cause its utter dissolution:
Who viewing this, would not have thought't a wonder,
That without Rain, Winde, Lightning, Hail, or Thunder,
Or hidden Shelves, or Rocks, Sea ambusht back,
Or any Tempest, Ships should suffer wrack?
That one might here have term'd it, chuse you whether,
A stormy Calm, or Calm Tempestuous Weather:
But now each Fleet, each Ship, with hopeful pride
Clash altogether furious, side to side;
Their tired senses labour'd in such wise,
That they grew dull with too much Exercise:
Their troubled eyes viewing such ghastly sights,
Wish't that sad darkness cancell'd all their lights.
The horrid noise the Battle made was such,
Hearing, heard nothing 'cause it heard so much.
Such a confusion racks their senses here,
They'd reason now to wish they sensless were.
Now Death in purple stands upon the hatches,
With pale and grisely looks; see how he snatches
Hundreds of men at once, and stops their Breath,
Till that grim
Death grew vveary novv of Death.
See on the Sea hovv thousand Bodies float
From their
Great Ships, hasting to
Charons Boat:
Which crabbed Skuller now might think it meet
His old torn
Bout should be nevv chang'd a Fleet.
The tumults noise pierc't the blevv arched Sky,
The crystal Aire fill'd vvith a deadly cry,
Only in this was blest, as Blows abounded,
It could be ever Cut, yet never Wounded.
Th
[...] silent
Earth, glad that she was debarr'd
From this sad sight, yet inwardly was heard
(The dreadful Guns rebounding oft) to moan,
And
Eccho, made her yield a hollow groan:
But this thing chiefly made her most to rave,
That to her due the Sea should prove a Grave.
[Page 4] Never did strong breath'd
Eolus 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
Apalling Sea-men, doth so much affright
Their soon moov'd Sea, as did this Battles noise,
Which
Neptune answer'd with his bellowing Voice.
Who as the Fleets made nearer to the strand,
With tumbling haste, ran frighted up the Sand;
That had not bounds restrain'd his Element,
His watry Veil had cloath'd the Continent.
The tender
Nymphs, who with their silver Feet
Use on the Plains o'th crisped Sea to meer;
Where tripping prettily they'r wont to dance
Themselves into a heavenly slumbring trance
Of sweet repose, at these inhumane shocks,
With hair all torn creep into th' hollow Rocks;
Where shrouded they to meditate began,
No Rock so flinty as the Heart of Man.
Ships now began to burn, that one might see
Neptunes, and
Vulcans consanguinity.
The quaking Ships with Thundering Guns are rent,
Whose wounded Sides, the goared Streams do vent
Of Dead and Wounded Men, who lay therein
As if they had their Beires, or Coffins been.
They that would have a
Mare Liberum
Instead thereof gain
Mare Mortuum.
Their Tacklings, Sails, and Cables now do burn,
And Fire casts Anchors, never to return.
Thus did th' inhumane Battles fury rage,
Nor could the Sea th' increasing Flames asswage.
Fire now and Water did not each contend,
But seem'd their Powers so mutually to lend;
That you might see there many men became
Burnt in the Sea, and Drowned in the Flame.
This one good hap to Karkases did fall,
They'd fire to burn them at their Funeral.
The mangled Ships nor fearing to be drentht,
Gladly take Breeches, thereby to be quencht.
Thus much in general, I cannot chuse
But on particulars employ my Muse;
As the wise Pilot watchfully doth minde
To husband all th' advantages of Winde;
Comes an unruly Shot, and him doth force
To certain Death, change his uncertain course.
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 having finish'd thus his lost lifes date,
Doth truly prove himself the
Masters Mate.
The Trumpeter with smart reviving sound,
Quickning their dying Hearts, falls to the ground,
Thinking to sound one life-infusing bout,
His own
Dead March he made it Eccho out:
And having lent his Trumpet so much breath
In's life, it turn'd him some again in's Death.
The Drummer with his nimble Hand repeating
His doubl'd Blows, without compassion beating
His harmless Drum, which seem'd with groaning cry
To murmur at his Masters cruelty.
Immediately tvvo 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.
Here comes a Captain vvith undaunted Face,
Incouraging the Souldiers to the Chace;
And being about to say, be brave, be bold,
An untought ill-bred Bullet bids him hold:
This
Leader faithful to his utmost breath,
Can only novv lead's men the vvay to Death.
Some under hatches closed in despair,
Mount up their Foes vvith Povvder in the Air;
Giving to them a strange unvvonted Death,
Who having Aire too much, yet vvanted breath:
It seemeth yet that they no Damage meant 'um,
Who the next vvay up into Heaven sent'um.
These Men vvho chanced in the Ship to fall,
The cruel Sea vvas made their Burial;
And to the Waves vvithout remorse vvere throvvn,
Slain by their Foes, and Drovvned by their ovvn.
Some fearing Fire, into the Sea do fly,
And so for fear of Death, fear not to dye:
See tvvo vvhich stoutly grapple, striving vvhether
Should overcome, both fall i'th Sea together;
Imbracing both, till they have lost their breath,
And seem though Foes in Life, yet Friends in Death.
Tvvo Brothers slain, as they together stood,
One then might svvear, they vvere
allied in Blood.
See a poor man, vvith both Arms cut asunder,
Distracted leap't into the VVater under,
Meaning to svvim, but see the vvoful VVretch,
VVith hovv much toil he laboureth to stretch
[Page 8] His ravv Vein'd Stumps; and catch to save his life
Some kinde remain o'th Ship, but all his strife
Doth make him sooner to be out of breath,
And
wanting Arms, he yet
imbraceth Death.
One getteth this by having lost his eyes,
In that he cannot see his miseries;
Anothers Legs are gone, that vvho him sees,
Might think he did beg mercy on his knees.
VVhat refuge novv is left? vvhen if they shun
The approaching Svvord, into the fire they run;
Shunning the Fire they into VVater fall,
So no vvay vvants a certain Funeral.
Thus after strange unheard of sort they ly,
And Death, by many Deaths, makes many dye,
The mangled Ships no longer can vvithstand
Th'intruding Sea, and
Mars his fiery brand.
Some Fled, some Sunk, the rest amazed stood,
Finding instead of Sea, a
Sea of Blood.
On that Truly Worthy, and approvedly Valiant Commander, Sir CHRISTOPHER MINNS, Knight, lately Deceased.
Compel your Tears (like to his Foes) to fall,
Helping to waft him to his Funeral;
Remember what he did, let that excite
In all men Courage, to gain Fame by Fight:
Such was his Valour, not o'th Furious Strain,
The Hand that struck did first consult the Brain.
Often encompass'd round, he Victor stood,
Painting the Decks with his pure (conquering) Blood.
He, though alone, no succor need to crave,
Eager t' Obtain a Victory, or Grave;
Regarding less his own then Countreyes good,
Maintaining it to the last drop of Blood.
I cann't Write more for grief, my blubber'd Eye
Nill's the enlarging of his Elegy:
Nevertheless I (thinking on his Name)
Shall his due Praise perpetually proclaim.
Licensed,
June 12. 1666.