They fired on us (like mad) theire great shott;
With louder huzzas we answer’d agen,
And shew’d ’em that we were true Englishmen;
Thus under sail alongst ’em we past,
And till convenient we kept all fast;
But halloo’d out, nor were agast,
And sent a broadside amongst ’em at last.
Thus fireing, and fireing, we held a good space,
And gave ’em the go by to their disgrace;
Three hours or more continu’d the fight,
With fire and smoke, and a very calm night,
And tho’ within pistol shott we were,
Yet nevertheless we got well clear,
Without much hurt or any fear,
And to tell you the tale are now come here.
_THE GOLDEN VOYAGE; OR, THE PROSPEROUS ARRIVAL OF THE JAMES AND MARY_,
Who having searched the ocean for treasure, finding the value of two
hundred thousand pounds in gold and silver, was joyfully received at
the city of London.
To the Tune of _Ladies of London_.
Listen awhile, and I here will unfold what seemeth to promise
promotion:
There is great plenty of silver and gold now newly took out of the
ocean:
Forty-three years this treasure has lain since the galion was
stav’d asunder
Among the scholes and the rocks in the main, yet this may be now
the world’s wonder.
It being seventeen leagues from the shore, ’tis wonderful if you do
mind it,
Many has search’d for this treasure before, but none had the fortune
to find it
Till the brave _James and Mary_ of fame, whom Fortune hath highly
befriended,
She most successfully sail’d on the main, and was from all dangers
defended.
She was inform’d where this treasure did lye by some that had gi’en
information;
Therefore some nobles did freely comply, without any more
disputation,
To fit her forth; this favour they show, it being their free will
and pleasure.
With a fair gale to the ocean they go, where they find great plenty
of treasure.
’Twas in the midst of September they went forth in the brave _James
and Mary_,
All the ship’s crew with a loyal consent, they being both cheerful
and airy;
And in short time they there did arrive where they was with rocks
so surrounded
That they did hardly know how to contrive to keep themselves from
being drown[d]ed.
There they was forced some time for to lose, and lye at an anchor
together;
As for their engine, they then could not use, because of the
turbulent weather;
Yet at the last to diving they went, where silver and gold they
received;
When in the water their breath was near spent they were by their
engine relieved.
Six weeks together they work’d in the cold, still diving in nine
fathom water,
Loading their _Mary_ with silver and gold; then up to fair London
they brought her,
Where they received her with delight, as you may observe by the
ditty,
And they unloaded her cargo in sight of many brave men of the city.
Carts heavy loaden came through the town, on which the whole
multitude gazed;
This to the seamen hath purchac’d renown, no question but they may
be praised:
Still far and near their fame let it ring, and let them be highly
commended,
Since they did venture so hard in this thing, and was with a
blessing attended.
But here is one thing we must not forget: while they were the
treasure possessing,
On the great rocks they might soon have been split had not Heaven
yielded a blessing;
Or while they search’d the depth of the main, to hazards they could
be no strangers;
Yet men and boys came all safe home again, tho’ they had gone
through such dangers.
_THE BOATSWAIN’S CALL; OR, THE COURAGIOUS MARRINER’S INVITATION TO ALL
HIS BROTHER SAILERS TO FORSAKE FRIENDS AND RELATIONS FOR TO FIGHT IN
THE DEFENCE OF THEIR KING AND COUNTRY._
To the Tune of _The Ring of Gold_.
Stout seamen, come away, never be daunted;
For if at home you stay, then is it granted
The fleet can never be mann’d for the ocean,
To fight the enemy and gain promotion.
Lewis, that Christian Turk, makes preparation;
His engines are at work in consultation,
Thinking to ruin quite all Christian princes;
But we their wrongs will right, at life’s expences.
The mighty force of France we never value;
For when we once advance we will not dally,
But on the ocean wide (through blest permission)
We’ll soon subdue their pride and grand ambition.
Therefore with courage bold, boys, let us venture;
Like noble hearts of gold now freely enter
Your names on board the fleet, all friends forsaking,
That we may soon compleat this undertaking.
Is it not that the land might be defended
By a victorious hand? tho’ France intended
To lay a heavy yoke on a free nation,
Boys, let a fatal stroke prove their vexation!
But yet methinks I hear some cowards crying,
The press they dread and fear as much as dying,
And sculk, like frighted slaves, here in distraction,
To hide in dens and caves from warlike action.
Yet some declare they’d fight, but a dear mother,
Who counts him her delight above all other,
She loves him as her life; parting would grieve her:
Another has a wife, he’s loath to leave her.
Thus cowards they can find excuses many
To tarry here behind; yet there’s not any
Right valiant noble soul heeds a relation,
He’ll fight against controul for this his nation.
Has not men wish’d and cry’d, ‘A war with France!’ boys,
That on the ocean wide we may advance, boys?
To storm and shake their throne, no danger fearing:
This still has been their tone oft in my hearing.
Where are those heroes now, those sons of thunder,
That would make Lewis bow and bring him under?
Your wishes now you have, France is the center;
Like seamen stout and brave, boys, freely venture!
In a fight fierce and hot once was I wounded;
We receiv’d showrs of shot, being surrounded;
Yet I again will go, and scorn to hide me;
I’ll face the daring foe, what e’er betide me.
He that has been in fight fears not another;
He leaves with much delight father and mother,
To embrace those true joys which men admire;
We can be merry, boys, in smoak and fire.
If we the conquest gain, that brings promotion;
If we by chance are slain, then the wide ocean
Shall be our watry tomb, near Neptune’s palace.
This, boys, shall be our doom, in spite of malice.
_THE UNDAUNTED SEAMAN_,
Who resolved to fight for his King and country; together with his
love’s sorrowful lamentation at their departure.
To the Tune of _I often for my Jenny strove_.
‘My love, I come to take my leave, yet prithee do not sigh and
grieve,
On the wide ocean I will fight, for to maintain the nation’s right:
Under noble chief commanders I resolve to take my chance;
_On board I’ll enter, life I’ll venture, to subdue the pride of
France_.’
‘My dear,’ said she, ‘be not unkind, I shall no peace nor comfort
find;
My very heart will break for thee, if thus we must divided be:
While thou art with foes surrounded, where the loud-mouth’d cannons
roar,
_This warlike action breeds distraction, I shall never see you
more_.’
‘Let no such fear attend my dear, I hope to be as safe as here;
For King and country’s good I’ll stand, and vow to fight with heart
and hand.
None but cowards fear to venture, freely will I take my chance;
_On board I’ll enter, life I’ll venture, to subdue the pride of
France_.’
The youthful damsel then did cry, ‘I’ll part with gold and silver
too,
Another person to employ, that may be better spared than you.
Never shall I be contented while you leave your native shore
_This warlike action breeds distraction, I shall never see you
more_.’
‘My dear, all hazards will I run, methinks the work cannot be done
Except I do in person go to face that perjur’d potent foe:
We have warlike sons of thunder, which will valiantly advance
_To the wide ocean for promotion and to check the pride of France_.
‘My dear, the royal English fleet, with the Dutch navy, will
compleate
The work which fairly is begun: we fear not but Monsieur will run;
For we’ll drive the rogues before us, teach them such an English
dance:
_While they retire, still we’ll fire, check the growing pride of
France_.’
With sighs and tears this damsel said, ‘If you resolve to go to sea,
In sailor’s robes I’ll be array’d and freely go along with thee;
Life and fortune I will venture rather than to stay on shore:
_Grief will oppress me, and possess me, that I ne’er shall see
thee more_.’
Said he, ‘My dearest, stay on land, such idle fancies ne’er pursue;
Thy soft and tender milk-white hand [a]seaman’s labour cannot do:
Here I leave both gold and treasure to maintain my dear on shore.’
_But still she crying, and replying, ‘I shall never see thee
more!’_
‘Thy gold’s no more than dross to me, alas! my heart is sunk full
low,
The want of thy sweet company will surely prove my overthrow:
Therefore, dearest, do not leave me, here tormented on the shore;
_Let us not sever, love, for ever, lest I ne’er shall see thee
more!_’
Tho’ bitterly she did complain, her sighs and tears were all in vain;
He would not suffer her to go, so many cares and griefs to know:
But with sweet salutes they parted; she was left with tears on shore;
_Here often crying, and replying, ‘I shall never see him more!’_
_THE SEA-MAN’S ADIEU TO HIS DEAR._
This man was prest to serve upon the seas,
Which did his dearest very much displease;
She importuned the captain on her knee,
And proffered gold to have her love set free;
But all would not prevail; the captain’s ear
Was deaf, the maid’s complaint he would not hear.
When no entreaty could move his hard heart
She sadly took her leave, and so they part.
To the Tune of _I’le go to Sir Richard_.
Come, all loyal lovers that’s faithful and true,
Observe, where ever you be,
A pattern I here have presented to you:
It is good to be constant, you see.
But chiefly to thee, my own dearest, I speak,
With patience my absence to bear,
For now I am prest to serve on the seas,
And I must bid adieu to my dear.
Our King must have seamen and souldiers most stout,
His enemies’ heart for to fear,
And I for my honour will venture about,
And I must bid adieu to my dear.
MAID.
O tell me not so, mine own dearest, I pray;
For love’s sake take pitty on me;
I’le do my endeavour to please thee alway
If that I may have my love free.
’Tis far better staying with me on the shore,
Where pleasures and joys do abound,
Than for [you] to venture where cannons do roar,
In the depth of the seas to be drown’d.
O be not so cruel, my love, for to fight,
But tarry, my dearest, with me;
We’l find out a way in Love’s war for to fight,
And I’le strive for to set my love free.
MAN.
All that thou canst do, my love, will not procure
My freedom, I sorely do fear;
But I must the hardship of service endure,
And I must bid adieu to my dear.
My captain by no means will let me go free,
He likes me so well, I do hear;
Therefore it’s in vain to beg my liberty,
For I must bid adieu to my dear.
MAID.
I’le go to thy captain and fall on my knee;
Perhaps he’l take pitty on me;
If five pounds or ten pounds will buy thy discharge
He shall have it to set my love free.
THE CAPTAIN’S ANSWER.
Not ten pounds nor twenty will buy his discharge,
Fair maid, you must patiently bear;
He shall go to sea for his King to ingage,
And he must bid adieu to his dear.
I’le have him to serve me upon the salt main,
In battel with foes for to fight;
Then cease, pritty maiden, and do not complain,
For the wars is a souldier’s delight.
MAID.
Behold, noble captain, the sorrowful tears,
That down my cheeks trickle amain,
To move your hard heart to release me of fear
And to grant me my love once again.
No maiden’s heart ever was so full of woe,
Then, good sir, take pitty on me;
And let him no further into the wars go,
But be pleased to set my love free.
CAPTAIN.
O cease thy suit, damsel, and be not so sad,
Let reason thy mind now aswage;
Ten thousand such seamen must e’re long be had,
All against the proud foes to engage.
MAN.
My dearest, why dost thou the captain offend?
Thou seest he by no means will yield;
And I am resolved my blood for to spend
Upon the salt sea or in field.
Therefore be contented, and cease thy sad moan,
Take comfort, and do thou not fear;
If fortune befriend me, when as I am gone,
I shall once again see mine own dear.
MAID.
My dearest, since thou must be parted from me,
And here must no longer remain,
The thought of thy love all my comfort shall be
Until I do see thee again.
Each hour for thy welfare to God will I pray,
That He will in safety preserve
My own dearest lover by night and by day
Whilst he on the ocean doth serve.
This token, I prethee, love, for my sake keep,
Remember me when you it wear;
This parting kiss take, which doth cause me to weep,
And so heavens bless mine own dear.
MAN.
Adieu, my dear jewel: thy love I have found;
Our parting doth grieve me full sore.
The drums they do beat, and the trumpets do sound,
And I must stay no longer on shore.
_THE MAIDENS FROLICK; OR, A BRIEF RELATION HOW SIX LUSTY LASSES HAS
PREST FULL FOURTEEN TAYLORS ON THE BACKSIDE OF ST. CLEMENTS, AND THE
OTHER ADJACENT PLACES._
To the Tune of _An Orange_.
Of late near the Strand, we well understand,
Six lasses that took a brisk frollick in hand;
’Twas thus, I profess, they in seaman’s dress,
Not far from the May-pole, resolved to press
_Fourteen taylors_.
Young Nancy she ty’d a sword by her side,
And she was resolved for to be their guide:
This young female crew, Kate, Bridget, and Prue,
And she that went formost was Lieutenant Sue,
_Pressing taylors_.
These maids by consent, their minds fully bent,
First thro’ the back side of St. Clements they went,
Where just in the street they a taylor did meet;
They prest him, and streight he fell down at their feet:
‘_I’m a taylor_.
‘I tell you,’ said he, ‘I ne’er was at sea,
And therefore, kind gentlemen, pray set me free,
And pity these tears; I have liv’d forty years,
And never us’d weapon but bodkin and shears.
_I’m a taylor._’
But Susan and they strait haul’d him away,
While Tom, the poor taylor, did sigh, beg, and pray;
Yet all was in vain, for they did him retain,
And told him that now he must fight on the main,
_Tho’ a taylor_.
Then to White Hart Yard they went with regard,
And there a poor taylor was labouring hard
Upon his shop-board. Nan drew out her sword,
Saying he must King William his service afford,
_Tho’ a taylor_.
The taylor did quake--nay, quiver and shake.
At length with a pitiful voice he did spake,
While tears down did run; he cry’d, ‘I’m undone.
I never did know the right end of a gun;
_I’m a taylor_.’
Then stout Boston Bess said, ‘Nevertheless
You must go with us, we’ve a warrant to press;
Then wave this excuse, and lay by your goose;
Such nimble young fellows may be of great use,
_Tho’ only a taylor_.’
And then, by report, they went to Round Court,
Where seven young taylors were making of sp[ort],
Their hearts void of care, who when they come the[re],
These maids did catch napping, as Moss catch’d [his] ma[re],
_Seven taylors_.
They thought to resist, but Joan with her fist,
She thumpt them about till the taylors they pi[ ],
And then in a rage the rest did engage,
And brought them away to the round-house or ca[ge],
_These poor taylors_.
With all might and main down to Dutchy Lane
These petticoat press-masters hurried again,
To press some they knew: ’twas Morgan and Hu[gh],
A couple belong’d to the cross-legged crew,
_And Welsh taylors_.
Then Morgan hur railes, crys, ‘Splutter-a-nails,
Hur newly come up to fair London from Wales;
Then pray cease your strife, hur has a young wife,
Besides hur was never yet kill’d in hur life.’
_A Welsh taylor._
But yet, right or wrong, they brought ’em along,
And happen’d to meet with three more in the thro[ng].
Then said lusty Jane, ‘You must serve King and Que[en]!’
And thus these stout females did press full fourte[en],
_And all taylors_.
_THE COURAGIOUS COMMANDER; OR, A BRIEF RELATION OF THAT MOST NOBLE
ADVENTURE OF SIR CLOUDESLY SHOVELL, IN THE BAY OF DUBLIN, ON GOOD
FRYDAY, IN BRINGING THE PELLICAN FRIGAT OUT OF THEIR HARBOUR IN TRIUMPH
AND VICTORY._
To the Tune of _Let Cæsar live long_.
Now, noble brave boys, let the sweet trumpet sound,
While seamen with trophies of honour are crown’d;
For gracious King William they’ll fight till they dye,
And scorn from the face of a Tory to flye.
Sir brave Cloudesly Shovell sail’d to Dublin Bay,
And brought the brave _Pellican_ frigat away.
Bold James and his Teagues they did stand and behold
Our noble commander, couragious and bold,
Who ventur’d just close to the banks of their shore
And laid the proud enemy sprawling in gore:
With fire and sword, boys, we enter’d the bay,
And brought the brave _Pellican_ frigat away.
Our noble commander first enter’d aboard,
On the _Monmouth_ yacht; this did courage afford
To all the brave sailors of Protestant pride,
Who vow’d they wou’d venture to dye by his side;
Then crossing the bar they enter’d the bay,
And brought the brave _Pellican_ frigat away.
The Tory commander did fire amain,
While we did salute him with bullets again,
Till twenty or more of his rebells were kill’d.
Now when he our valour and courage beheld,
He straight cut his cable to flye from the fray,
But we brought the brave _Pellican_ frigat away.
The Protestants’ goods they were sending for France;
By us they were stopt--ay, and taken by chance,
Which made the poor French-men to swear, fret, and frown,
To see our brave seamen of fame and renown,
With what resolution our guns they did play,
When we brought the brave _Pellican_ frigat away.
The Tories came down with their foot and their horse,
And with their old master lamented his loss;
And into the water a party did ride,
Discharging their pistols against our ship’s side;
But like men of courage our guns we did play,
And brought the brave _Pellican_ frigat away.
‘You damn’d English dogs,’ one proud Monsieur did cry,
But straight at his horse we a bullet let flye;
He was in a rage to find such salutes,
That straight he was forc’d to shake off his jack-boots;
Then after the rebels our guns we did play,
And brought the brave _Pellican_ frigat away.
But here is one thing that is worthy of note:
Two Protestant boys they did wade to our boat;
We straight took them in, and their lives we did save:
An account of the fears of the rebels they gave.
Our streamers we spread, and our flags did display,
And brought the brave _Pellican_ frigat away.
This is but a rellish and taste of their doom;
Brave boys, we will down with the bullworks of Rome.
The rebels in France they may put their whole trust,
While we all their glory lay low in the dust.
With fire and sword, boys, we’l enter the fray
King William’s great army shall carry the day.
_THE SEAMEN’S VICTORY; OR, ADMIRAL KILLEGREW’S GLORIOUS CONQUEST OVER
THE FRENCH FLEET, IN THE STREIGHTS, AS THEY WERE COMING FROM THOULON
TOWARDS BREST_;
With the manner of taking three of their French men-of-war, and sinking
two more; although the French Admiral vainly boasted he would recover
Brest or Paradice, yet he shamefully run from the English fleet.
To the Tune of _The Spinning Wheel_.
Here’s joyfull news came late from sea;
’Tis of a gallant victory
Which o’er the French we did obtain
Upon the throbbing ocean main.
As soon as e’er they found our rage
The rogues was glad to disengage.
The French fleet sailing from Thoulon,
As we by letters understand,
To join with those that lay at Brest,
As some of them have since confest;
But our brave fleet with them did meet,
And made the Frenchmen soon retreat.
Five ships, with others, did advance,
Being the very pride of France:
The _Lewis_, _Dauphin_, and the _Sun_,
With others which were forced to run.
As by this ditty you shall hear,
Brave English boys, the coast did clear.
The French at first did brag and boast,
But we so wisely rul’d the roast,
Under our Admiral Killegrew,
That we engag’d and beat them too,
Declaring that we did not fear
The haughty rage of proud Monsieur.
Our admiral bore up amain,
Resolving that he would maintain
A sharp and bloudy fight with those
Who dare King William’s crown oppose:
Then broad-sides streight began to roar,
Which laid the French in reeking gore.
Right valiant seamen, fierce and bold,
Couragious noble hearts of gold,
All with a resolution bent,
Whole showers of shot to them they sent,
By which the French in hundreds fell:
Our guns did ring their passing-bell.
We pour’d our shot on e’ery side,
‘’Tis bravely done,’ the captain cry’d.
‘Though sharp and bloudy be the fray,
The French are beat; we have the day.
True English boys, ’twas bravely done;
See how the Frenchmen run, they run.’
Now while we did maintain the fight
Two French ships there we sunk downright,
And likewise have we taken three.
This crown’d our work with victory;
The noble, valiant Killegrew
After the rest do’s still pursue.
The French-men they did [soon] retreat;
They were a shatter’d, torn fleet.
But if he shall them overtake
A prize of all the rest he’ll make;
Couragious boys are sail’d with him,
Who freely ventures life and limb
Under the admiral’s command,
For to defend the native land.
May Heaven prosper still and bless
Our valiant soldiers’ good success,
That we hereafter may advance,
To shake the very crown of France.
_TORRINGTONIA; OR, A NEW COPY OF VERSES ON THE LATE SEA ENGAGEMENT._
To a Tune _Which nobody can deny_.
I sing not the battle (so fam’d) of Lepanto,
Nor what the Turks got by the siege of Otranto,
Nor the Spanish Armada so brave and gallanto,
_Which nobody can deny_.
Nor how they were bang’d by invincible Drake,
Nor the courage and conduct of excellent Blake,
Nor of men that fought bravely when all was at stake,
_Which nobody can deny_.
But a sort of sea-fight ’tween the French and Hollander,
Where th’ English had joyn’d, but that their commander-
In-chief wou’d not be a with- but a by-stander,
_Which nobody can deny_.
The Dutch to the enemy boldly drew near,
But th’ admiral o’th English more wisely did steer,
For he thought it was safer to keep in the rear,
_Which nobody can deny_.
Grafton (’twas said) came courageously in,
And by mauling the French great honour did win,
But Torr’ was resolv’d to sleep in a whole skin,
_Which nobody can deny_.
Had each ship and its captain but been independant,
They’d certainly made a [more] glorious end on’t,
Then commanded by such a stout superintendant,
_Which nobody can deny_.
Tyrrel and Dorrel did boldly stand to ’em
(Thinking to beat the French and to undo ’em),
But th’ Admiral only came thither to view ’em,
_Which nobody can deny_.
And tho’ the French fleet was so little esteem’d,
And their courage and conduct despisable deem’d,
To wise Herbert they plainly invincible seem’d,
_Which nobody can deny_.
Some ships too fool-hardy did headlong engage,
Which put the stout admiral in such a rage,
That nought but a whore could passion asswage,
_Which nobody can deny_.
When the shot from the enemy flying at random
Slew the stout hero’s dog, that could no way withstand ’em,
His bitches desired their master to land ’em,
_Which nobody can deny_.
’Twould make a man, much more a woman, agast, sir,
To see a dog kill’d ’twixt the leggs of his master,
Who much more deserv’d such a dismal disaster,
_Which nobody can deny_.
Some say that he wanted both powder and ball.
Be that true or false, it was certainly all
One to him, whose courage was so very small,
_Which nobody can deny_.
The Dutch at the enemy bravely did fire all,
Tho’ Arthur commanded the fleet to retire all,
For which if he be’nt hang’d we much shou’d admire all,
_Which nobody can deny_.
Tho’ the French for a time may bluster and boast
Of the honour they won by Torrington lost,
Their courage will cool when our fleet’s on their coast,
_Which nobody can deny_.
Not one town of theirs, nor two, three, nor four
Shall appease for the pranks they play’d on our shoar;
We have admirals now that will pay off the score,
_Which nobody can deny_.
Printed at the request of a Tarr for the diversion of the melancholly
Widows of Wapping.
_ENGLAND’S TRIUMPH AT SEA_ [1691].
A mighty great fleet, the like was ne’re seen
Since the reign of King William and Mary his Queen,
Design’d the destruction of France to have been:
_Which nobody can deny_.
This fleet was compos’d of English and Dutch,
For ships, guns, and men there was never seen such;
Nor so little done, when expected so much:
_Which nobody can deny_.
Eighty-six ships of war, which we capitall call,
Besides frigats and tenders, and yachts that are small,
Sayl’d out, and did little or nothing at all:
_Which nobody can deny_.
Thirty-nine thousand and five hundred brave men,
Had they chanc’d to have met the French fleet, O then,
As they beat ’em last year, they’d have beat ’em agen:
_Which nobody can deny_.
Six thousand great guns, and seventy-eight more,
As great and as good as ever did roar;
It had been the same thing had they left ’em ashore
_Which nobody can deny_.