Such tydings to our King is come, which grieves his heart full sore.’
With that this gallant _Rainbow_ she shot, out of her pride,
Full fifty gallant brass pieces, charged on every side.
And yet these gallant shooters prevailed not a pin;
Though they were brass on the out-side brave Ward was steel within.
‘Shoot on, shoot on!’ says Captain Ward; ‘your sport well pleaseth
me;
And he that first gives over, shall yield unto the sea.
‘I never wrong’d an English ship, but Turk and King of Spain,
For and the jovial Dutch-man, as I met on the main.
If I had known your King but one two-years before,
I would have saved brave Essex life, whose death did grieve me sore.
‘Go, tell the King of England, go tell him thus from me,
If he reign king of all the land, I will reign king at sea.’
With that the gallant _Rainbow_ shot, and shot, and shot in vain,
And left the rover’s company, and home return’d again.
‘O Royal King of England, your ship’s returned again;
For Wards ship is so strong it never will be ta’ne.’
‘O everlasting!’ says our King, ‘I have lost jewels three,
Which would have gone into the seas and brought proud Ward to me!
‘The first was Lord Clifford, Earl of Cumberland;
The second was the Lord Mountjoy, as you shall understand;
The third was brave Essex, from field would never flee;
Which would ’a gone unto the seas and brought proud Ward to me!’
_THE LAMENTABLE CRIES OF AT LEAST 1500 CHRISTIANS:_
Most of them being Englishmen (now Prisoners in Argiers under the
Turkes) begging at Gods hand, that hee would open the eyes of all
Christian Kings and Princes, to commiserate the wretched estate of so
many captives: and withall to free them from that Turkish slavery, in
which both bodies and soules are in danger: with a Petition to the
Kings most excellent Maiestie and all Christian Princes.
Not many moones have from their silver bowes
Shot light through all the world, since those sworne foes
To God and all good men ... that hell-borne crew
Of pirates (to whome there’s no villanies new),
Those halfe-Turkes and halfe Christians, who now ride
Like sea-gods (on rough billows in their pride),
Those renegadoes, who (their Christ denying)
Are worse than Turkes, Turkes them in heart defying;
These, these are they, that have from Christians torne,
Of ships, sixescore but one, and the men borne
(To th’ number of a thousand) to th’ Turkes shore,
All they being slaves now tugging at the oare.
Count from what time the worthy Mansfield came
From that divels den (Argiers).... Just since that flame
Of warre went out at sea, in that short space
From thence till now these thieves have held in chase
All ships which pass’d the Straights of Gibraltar,
To rob or sinke them; were they men of warre,
Merchants, or others; and when worst they thrive
And nothing get, yet get they men alive.
O wretched state of Christian soules so taken!
To looke upon whose torments would awaken
Tyrants, to thrust their armes up, through their graves,
To gard from blowes these Christian galley-slaves.
They that could safely stand but on the shoare
To view a sea-fight, heare the cannons roare,
See Turkes boord English ships, whilest Englishmen
Like lyons fight, and fling them o’re.... But when
Numbers of big-boan’d runnagates so swarme,
That not one man of ours dare lift an arme
At a Turkes head, the ship with blood imbrude,
And over-mastered with damn’d multitude,
Should any stand so, and get off unwounded,
They would, to see this, bee with griefe confounded:
But on these following lines fasten your eyes,
Your selves may draw foorth all their miseries.
Being boorded so, and rob’d, then are they tide
On chaines, and drag’d t’ Argiers, to feede the pride
Of a Mahumetan dog (eight in a row)
(Each eighth man to the Argier king must goe),
And th’ eighth part of what’s tane is still his prize;
What men he leaves are any-ones who buyes
And bids most for them, for they then are led
To market, and like beasts sold by the head,
Their masters having liberty by law
To strike, kick, starve them, yet to make them draw
In yoakes, like oxen, and if dead they beate them,
Out are they throwne for beasts and ravens to eate them
He that’s condemn’d to th’ oare hath first his face,
Eyebrowes, and head close shaven (for more disgrace
Cannot betide a Christian). Then, being stript
To th’ girdle (as when roagues are to be whipt),
Chain’d are they to the seates where they sit rowing,
Five in a row together; a Turke going
On a large plancke between them, and though their eyes
Are ready to start out with pulling, he cryes
‘Worke, worke, you Christian curres,’ and though none needs
One blow for loytering, yet his bare back bleeds,
And riseth up in bunches, which the Turke
With a bulls-pizzle gives him, crying still, ‘Worke,
Worke, dog,’ whilest some so faint, at th’ oare th[e]y dye,
Being cast (like dogs) over-boord presently.
Their slavery done at Sea, then are they laid
In dungeons, worse than jayles, poorely arraid,
Fed with course horse-bread, water for their drinke,
And such sometimes puddles cannot worser stinke.
Then if upon a Turkish roague they frowne,
Or give him a crosse word, held are they downe
Oth’ ground upon their backs, whilst on the rim
Of their bare bellies they are forc’d from him
To beare four hundred blowes: their soles oth’ feet
And shinnes like payment now and then doe meet.
Why are the Turkes thus cruell, but to draw
Christians from Christ to their Mahumetan law?
You, who at home in golden pleasures dance,
Wasting both noones and nights in dalliance,
O when these groanes of Christians pierce [y]our eares
To free them, give your charity, and your teares,
Whilst you that are our Christian Princes stil’d
(All jarres amongst your selves being reconcil’d)
Into the field with one knit army come,
To kill this lyon that thus teares Christendome.
_THE HONOUR OF BRISTOL._
Showing how the _Angel Gabriel_ of Bristol fought with three (Spanish)
Ships, who boarded us many times, whereon we cleared our decks, and
killed five hundred of their men, and wounded many more, and made them
flye into Cales, where we lost but three men; to the honour of the
_Angel Gabriel_ of Bristol.
To the Tune of _Our Noble King in his Progress_.
Attend you and give ear awhile, and you shall understand
Of a battel fought upon the seas, by a ship of brave command;
The fight it was so famous, that all men’s heart doth fill,
And makes them cry, ‘To sea, _with the Angel Gabriel_!’
The lusty ship of Bristol sail’d out adventurously,
Against the foes of England, their strength with them to try;
Well victual’d, rig’d, and man’d, and good provision still:
Which makes men cry, ‘To sea, _with the Angel Gabriel_!’
The captain, famous Netheway, so was he call’d by name;
The master’s name John Mines, a man of noted fame;
The gunner Thomas Watson, a man of perfect skill:
With other valiant hearts, _in the Angel Gabriel_.
They waving up and down the seas, upon the ocean main:
‘It is not long ago,’ quoth they, ‘since England fought with Spain!
Would we with them might meet, our minds for to fulfill;
We would play a noble bout _with our Angel Gabriel_.’
They had no sooner spoken, but straight appear’d in sight
Three lusty Spanish vessels, of warlike force and might;
With bloody resolution they sought our men to spill,
And vow’d to make a prize of _our Angel Gabriel_.
Then first came up their admiral, themselves for to advance;
In her she bore full forty-eight piece of ordinance;
The next that then came near us was their vice-admiral,
Which shot most furiously at _our Angel Gabriel_.
Our gallant ship had in her full forty fighting men:
With twenty pieces of ordnance we play’d about them then;
And with powder, shot, and bullets we did imploy them still,
And thus began the fight _with our Angel Gabriel_.
Our captain to our master said, ‘Take courage, master bold;’
The master to the seamen said, ‘Stand fast, my hearts of gold;’
The gunner unto all the rest, ‘Brave hearts, be valiant still;
Let us fight in the defence _of our Angel Gabriel_!’
Then we gave them a broadside, which shot their mast asunder,
And tore the bowsprit of their ship, which made the Spaniards wonder;
And caused them for to cry, with voices loud and shrill,
‘Help! help! or else we sink, _by the Angel Gabriel_.’
Yet desperately they boarded us, for all our valiant shot;
Three-score of their best fighting-men upon our decks were got,
And then at their entrance full thirty we did kill,
And thus we clear’d the decks _of the Angel Gabriel_.
With that their three ships boarded us again with might and main,
But still our noble Englishmen cry’d out, ‘A fig for Spain!’
Though seven times they boarded us, at last we shew’d our skill,
And made them feel the force _of our Angel Gabriel_.
Seven hours this fight continued, and many brave men lay dead,
With purple gore and Spanish blood the sea was coloured red;
Five hundred of their men we there outright did kill;
And many more were maim’d _by the Angel Gabriel_.
They seeing of these bloody spoils, the rest made haste away.
For why? they saw it was no boot any longer for to stay;
Then they fled into Cales, and there they must lye still,
For they never more will dare to meet _our Angel Gabriel_.
We had within our English ship but onely three men slain;
And five men hurt, the which, I hope, will soon be well again;
At Bristol we were landed, and let us praise God still,
That thus hath blest our men _and our Angel Gabriel_.
Now let me not forget to speak of the gift given by the owner
Of the _Angel Gabriel_, that many years has known her;
Two hundred pounds in coyn and plate he gave with free good will
Unto them that bravely fought _in the Angel Gabriel_.
[Probably by LAWRENCE PRICE.]
_NEPTUNE TO ENGLAND._
Of thee, great State, the god of waves
In equall wrongs assistance craves,
Defend thyselfe and mee:
For if ore seas there be no sway,
My godhead cleane is tane away,
The scepter pluckt from thee.
Such as ore seas all sovereigntie oppose,
Though seeming friends, to both are truly foes.
If little Venice brings alone
Such waves to her subjection,
As in the Gulfe doe stirre,
What then should great Britannia please,
But rule as ladie ore all seas,
And thou as queen of her?
For sea-dominion may as well be gain’d
By new acquests, as by descent maintain’d.
Goe on, great state, and make it knowne,
Thou never wilt forsake thine owne,
Nor from thy purpose start:
But that thou wilt thy power dilate,
Since narrow seas are found too straight
For thy capacious heart.
So shall thy rule, and mine, have large extent:
Yet not so large, as just and permanent.
_ON HIS MAJESTIES FLEET._
Cease now the talke of wonders, nothing rare
Of floateing ilandes, castles in the aire,
Of wooden walls, graves walkeing, flieing steedes,
Or Trojan horse. The present truth exceeds
Those ancient fables; floating iles great store,
Sent from the British Ile, now guard her shore,
And castles strong without foundation stande
More safe on waters pavement then on lande.
Now wooden walles defend our walles of rocke;
These walles are cittyes too; tooke from the block
Arise those christned frames, which are the health
And moddle of a vaster Commonwealth;
Beyond the Kentish stratagem now ghosts
Of trees not greene doe walk about our coasts,
Which humane art hath made move quick, by death
Inur’d to motion, taught to feed on breath.
Now winged steeds with bridles plac’d behinde,
Leaving no print, accompany the winde,
Their bowells greate with sonns of Mars doth groane
To be delivered into action.
Ride on, Arts liveing creatures, flie and swell
Your wings like angry swans, while wee that dwell
On shore, with prayer and fame [?] encrease the gale
Which Heaven shall breath into each pregnant saile.
Powre out the language of a chastning Jove
That speakes in thunder here, like him above.
Cannot your _Lion_ roare and act her king?
Is shee with all her _Whelpes_ not swift to bringe
Her pray into her den? Is not your _Rose_
Worth lilies three, or any flower that growes?
Your _Honour_ (which is admirall) maintaine;
She leades you forth, come home to her againe.
For sea and fish, if tempests rise, bee free [?].
Give them to what they love, that troublers bee [?].
_UPON THE GREAT SHIP._
1
Old Paul’s steeple, fare thee well,
Thy famous building Ile not tell,
Of that thy lofty little bell
Shall ring.
But I am in another vaine,
Now you shall heare a merry straine,
It is of Royal Soveraigne
I sing.
2
I meane the ship so lately built,
Without, within soe richly gilt;
O never man saw rapier hilt
Soe shine.
I think there’s none since Noah’s Flood
Was ever like to prove soe good;
You never saw thing made of wood
Soe fine.
3
Edgar sitts horse, in glorious wise
As glorious artists could devise,
And under seven kings prostrate lyes.
I’me told
His horse with mettle soe abounds
That he shall shortly scowre the Downes,
And winne, Ile hold, a hundred pounds
Of gold.
4
To tell you of her bredth, her length,
Her height, her depth, her bulk, her strength,
Her anchor’s weight too, and the length
Oth’ cable,
Her guns, her tackle and the rest
_Quæ nunc proscribere longum est_,
It might be counted for a ieast
Or fable;
5
For there be very few will guesse
Her half a mile or little lesse,
Her lanthorne to feast forty messe
Unbidd,
Her mast for to be thrice as high
As Grantham steeple. If I lye
Ask them that saw her, pray, for I
Nere did.
6
To see how lasses flock each day,
And leave their maydenheads by th’ way,
I doubt that some will shortly pay
Dearely;
And most men wives will alsoe goe
[To ’t] whe’r their hussbands will or noe
To meet a freind, I don’t say soe,
Not I.
7
There’s many more will see this sight;
Some call their wives, and they doe right,
But some with others to delight
Are bent.
Thus good and bad and midling some,
To see this ship, to Woolwich come,
This wonder of all Christendome
And Kent.
8
Kent was never conquered yet,
Kent was thought a place most fitt
To build this goodly arke in it,
Soe stronge.
Kent and men of Kent have showne
By sea, by land, that of their owne
Which other countries have not knowne
Soe long.
9
Yet a word or two in merriment
To cheer up some were discontent,
And thought theire mony had bin lent
In vaine;
But now the truth they plainely see,
They all in one consent agree
To double it if need shalbe
Againe.
10
She will be Neptune’s greatest grace;
She vows our chiefest foes to chase,
And Triton with triforked mace
Doth sweare
Noe Remora there shall her stay,
Leviathan must give her way,
And all the divills that this day
Dwell there.
11
The syrens sitt and sweetly sing,
And hold it for a happy thing
That now they shall enioy the King
Oth’ mayne,
And say it’s a most Christian worke
To curb the Pope and scourge the Turke,
And ferret those that theeving lurke
Neer Spaine.
12
Our freinds are glad and mirth doe make,
Our foes are sad, their hearts doe quake,
Soe some doe laugh, and some doe shake
For woe,
And I amongst the rest make sport,
Singing to you in civill sort,
And if you have not thank’d me for’t
Then doe.
13
God blesse King Charles with length of daies,
That doth deserve immortal praise,
In this and many thousand waies
Our guide.
God blesse the Queen and ship so tall,
God blesse the great, God blesse the small,
The blade that made this song and all
Beside.
_SAYLORS FOR MY MONEY._
A new Ditty composed in the praise of Saylors and Sea Affaires, briefly
showing the nature of so worthy a calling, and effects of their
industry.
To the Tune of _The Iovial Cobbler_.
Countrie men of England, who live at home with ease,
And little thinke what dangers are incident o’ th’ seas,
Give eare unto the saylor who unto you will shew
His case, his case: _how ere the winde doth blow_.
He that is a saylor must have a valiant heart,
For, when he is upon the sea, he is not like to start;
But must with noble courage all dangers undergoe:
Resolve, resolve: _how e’re the wind doth blow_.
Our calling is laborious, and subject to much [care];
But we must still contented be with what falls to our share.
We must not be faint-hearted, come tempest, raine or snow,
Nor shrinke: nor shrinke: _how e’re the winde doth blowe_.
Sometimes on Neptune’s bosome our ship is tost with waves,
And every minute we expect the sea must be our graves.
Sometimes on high she mounteth, then falls againe as low:
With waves: with waves: _when stormie winds do blow_.
Then with unfained prayers, as Christian duty bindes,
Wee turne unto the Lord of hosts, with all our hearts and minds;
To Him we flie for succour, for He, we surely know,
Can save: can save: _how ere the wind doth blow_.
Then He who [brake] the rage [of] the rough and blustrous seas,
When His disciples were afraid, will straight the stormes apease;
And give us cause to thanke, on bended knees full low:
Who saves: who saves: _how ere the wind doth blow_.
Our enemies approaching, when wee on sea espie,
Wee must resolve incontinent to fight, although we die;
With noble resolution we must oppose our foe
In fight, in fight: _how ere the wind doth blow_.
And when, by God’s assistance, our foes are put to th’ foile,
To animate our courages wee all have share o’ th’ spoile.
Our foes into the ocean we back to back do throw,
To sinke, or swimme: _how ere the wind doth blow_.
Thus wee gallant sea-men, in midst of greatest dangers,
Doe alwaies prove our valour, wee never are no changers;
But what soe ere betide us, wee stoutly undergoe,
Resolv’d, resolv’d: _how ere the wind doth blow_.
If fortune doe befriend us, in what we take in hand,
Wee prove our selves still generous wherere we come to land;
Ther’s few that shall out brave us, though neere so great in show
We spend, and lend: _how ere the wind doth blow_.
We travell to the Indies, from them we bring som spice;
There we buy rich merchandise at very little price;
And many wealthy prizes we conquer from the foe
In fight, in fight: _how ere the wind doth blow_.
Into our native country with wealth we doe returne,
And cheere our wives and children, who for our absence mourne
Then doe we bravely flourish, and where soe ere we goe
We roare: we roare: _how ere the wind doth blow_.
For when we have received our wages for our paynes
The vintners and the tapsters by us have golden gaines.
We call for liquor roundly, and pay before we goe:
And sing: and drink: _how ere the wind doth blow_.
We bravely are respected when we walke up and downe,
For if wee meete good company wee care not for a crowne;
Ther’s none more free than saylors, where ere he come or goe,
They’ll roare o’ th’ shore: _how ere the winde doth blow_.
Then who would live in England and no[u]rish vice with ease,
When hee that is in povertie may riches get o’ th’ seas?
Let’s saile unto the Indies, where golden grass doth grow:
To sea, to sea: _how ere the wind doth blow_.
M[ARTIN] P[ARKER].
_THE JOVIAL MARRINER; OR, THE SEA-MAN’S RENOWN._
Sail forth, bold sea-men, plough the liquid main;
Fear neither storms nor pirats, strive for gain;
Whilst others sleep at home in a whole skin
Your brave adventures shall great honours win.
To the Tune of _I am a Jovial Batchelor_, etc. [By] J. P.
I am a jovial marriner: our calling is well known;
We trade with many a foreigner to purchase high renown;
We serve our country faithfully, and bring home store of gold;
We do our business manfully, for we are free and bold.
_A sea-man hath a valiant heart, and bears a noble minde;
He scorneth once to shrink or start for any stormy wind._
’Tis known what hardships we endure abroad upon the seas,
Whilst others sleep at home secure, and spend their time in ease;
We seldom dare lie down to rest, lest danger should ensue;
Our heads with care is sore opprest: beleeve me, it is true!
_A sea-man hath a valiant heart, etc._
A cowardly spirit must not think to prove a sea-man bold,
For to be sure he may not shrink in dangers manifold;
When sea-fights happen on the main, and dreadful cannons rore,
Then all men fight, or else be slain [and braggarts proud look poor.
_A sea-man hath a valiant heart, etc._]
’Tis sea-men stout that doth deserve both honour and renown;
In perils great we may not swerve, though Neptune seem to frown;
If once his curled front we spy, drencht in the foamy brine,
Then each man doth his business ply, there’s none that doth repine.
_A sea-man hath [a valiant heart], etc._
When angry billows brush the skye, most hideous to behold,
Then up our ships are tost on high, and with the waves are roull’d;
When tempest fierce our sails doth tear, and rends the masts asunder,
O! then we have great cause to fear, or else it were a wonder.
_A sea-man hath [a valiant heart], etc._
Great rocks which lye amongst the waves do threaten us with death,
And many sea-men finde their graves in sands which are beneath;
To see the masts of ships appear, which hath been cast away,
Would make a land-man dye with fear, ’tis best at home to stay.
_A sea-man hath a valiant heart, and bears a noble minde, etc._
Brave England hath been much inricht by art of navigation;
Great store of wealth we home have fetched for to adorn our nation:
Our merchants still we do supply with traffick that is rare;
Then, sea-men, cast your caps on high, we are without compare.
_A sea-man hath a valiant heart, and bears a noble minde;
He scorneth once to shrink or start for any stormy wind._
Who should the ladies’ pallats please, with spices of the best,
If sea-men all should take their ease, and stay at home to rest?
Our gallants they would finde a want of silks to make them fine,
And tearing boyes no more would rant if once they wanted wine.
_A sea-man hath [a valiant heart], etc._
Our land it would invaded be if sea-men were not stout;
We let our friends come in on sea, and keep our foes without;
Our privilege upon the seas we bravely do maintain,
And can enlarge it when we please in Royal Charles his reign.
_A sea-man hath [a valiant heart], etc._
Such countries as do lie remote doth tremble at our fame,
For we have taught them all to note ’tis England bears the name:
In foreign parts where ere we come our valour is well known,
What ere they be they dare not mumm, if we say all’s our own.
_A sea-man hath [a valiant heart], etc._
When as our ships with merchandize are safely come to shore,
No men like us under the skies to drink, to sing, and rore;
Good wine and beer we freely tope, until the ground look blew:
We value neither Turk nor Pope, we are a jovial crew.
_A sea-man hath [a valiant heart], etc._
We kiss our wives when we return, who long for us did wait,
And he that’s single need not mourn, he cannot want a mate:
Young women still are wondrous kinde to sea-men in their need;
And sure it shows a courteous minde to do a friendly deed.
_A sea-man hath [a valiant heart], etc._
With pretty, courteous, dainty knacks we please the females well,
We know what longing women lacks, most surely we can tell;
A sea-man is a cock o’ th’ game, young maidens find it true;
We never are so much to blame to let them want their due.
_A sea-man hath [a valiant heart], etc._
Thus, gallant sea-men, I have spread abroad your high renown,
Which shall survive when you are dead, and gain a lasting crown:
Your praise to future ages shall most gloriously appear;
Then courage, noble sea-men all, ’tis you I love most dear.
_A sea-man hath a valiant heart, and bears a noble minde
He scorneth once to shrink or start for any stormy wind._
_NEPTUNE’S RAGING FURY; OR, THE GALLANT SEAMAN’S SUFFERINGS._
You gentlemen of England, that lives at home at ease,
Full little do you think upon the dangers of the seas:
Give ear unto the marriners, and they will plainly show,
The cares and the fears _when the stormy winds do blow_.
All you that will be seamen must bear a valiant heart,
For when you come upon the seas you must not think to start,
Nor once to be faint-hearted in hail, rain, or snow,
Nor to shrink, nor to shrink _when the stormy winds do blow_.
The bitter storms and tempests poor seamen must endure,
Both day and night, with many a fright, we seldom rest secure;
Our sleep it is disturbed with visions strange to know,
And with dreams on the streams, _when the stormy winds do blow_.
In claps of roaring thunder which darkness doth enforce,
We often find our ship to stray beyond our wonted course,
Which causeth great distractions, and sinks our hearts full low;
’Tis in vain to complain _when the stormy winds do blow_.