Joyfull 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're,
Since Seas make Bonfires greater then the shore,
But shall we be out done? shall Neptune thus
By joys bright flaming Heraulds rivall us?
It is our Glory, therefore let it be,
The signs of his intended amity.
Whil'st in contiguous Bonefires all the Nation
Paint their late joyes, and sport in conflagration,
(Former Fires scarce extinguished) there came
True matter for new joy, and lasting shame
To our vain Boasting Foes, who hence must know
Th'ave paid us but in part, what they do owe.
Let Royallists 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 Loyall hearts.
The Guns and Trumpets shall with warlike voice
Contribute sounds; and help us to rejoyce.
And rather then want fewell in the close,
I'le make a walking Bonefire of my Nose.
But some may aske, why we rejoyce 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'le 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 Coast.
No more Apostate Holland shall proclaim
Those partiall conquests, which but brand her name.
Now the Delusion's o're, they plainly see
What once they were, what now they ought to be.
Draw up your Sluces, ye may quench a flame,
But never hope to wash away the Shame
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 meer invented joyes.
See whether that will take; but if it doe
I'le be of all Religions then, as you.
You see your Allys will not spend their Blouds,
The wiser they; thus ye are left 'ith' suds.
This and much more ye justly have deserv'd,
Though Vengeance Execution deferr'd.
What, wrong a Prince, whose virtues may become
A King that's fit to rule all Christendome.
So mercifull, he by his acts did shew
He would convince ye, 'fore he would subdue,
But take what follows, give us leave to laugh
Who win; our Souldiers are resolv'd to quaff
At your expence, nay in your cups a while,
Whil'st 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 injoy our Seas, whose worth
These Islands are too small to eccho forth.
So valiant, he led our Navy through
Red seas of bloud, and yet ne▪re wet his shooe.
Thanks to Sir Robert Holms, that worthy soul,
Whom bribes could ne'r seduce, nor threats controul.
Thanks to the Rest, whose courage baffled fear,
Ne'r better pleas'd, 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 treach'rous hearts, that they have wrong'd a Prince
Printed with Allowance.
LONDON, Printed by Peter Lillicrap, for Richard Head, 1666.