For we try’d what mettal he was made on before,
And ’tis better for him on land for to whore,
_Which nobody can deny_.
For a bullet, perhaps, from a rude cannon’s breach,
Which makes no distinction betwixt poor and rich,
Instead of his dog might have ta’ne off his bitch,
_Which nobody can deny_.
But Russell, the cherry-cheekt Russell, is chose
His fine self and his fleet at sea to expose;
But he will take care how he meets with his foes,
_Which nobody can deny_.
For there was a lady he left on land,
To whom he had promised his heart and his hand,
Though in her youth she was otherwise mann’d,
_Which nobody can deny_.
And why plump Russell who need never beg,
To move our compassion, goe venture a leg,
And break the heart of the good Lady Peg,
_Which nobody can deny_.
We had sea-collonells o’ th’ nature of otter,
Which either might serve by land or by water,
Tho’ of what they have done we hear no great matter,
_Which nobody can deny_.
In the month of May last they sailed on the main,
And now in September are come back again,
With the loss of some ships, but in battle none slain,
_Which nobody can deny_.
_ENGLAND’S GREAT LOSS BY A STORM OF WIND._
You gentlemen of England fair,
Who live at home free from all care,
Little do you think or know
What we poor sailors undergo:
We whine and toil upon the waves,
We work like Turks or galley slaves.
’Twas on November the second day
When first our admiral bore away;
Intending for his native shore,
The wind at west-south-west did roar,
Attended by a dismal sky,
And the seas did run full mountains high.
The very first land that we did make,
It chanc’d to be the old Ram’s Head,
Which made us all rejoice around
To see our flag-stem in Plymouth Sound,
Stretching well over for Fishes Nose,
Thinking to fetch up in [H]amose.
The tide of ebb not being done,
She set strong to the westward run,
Which put us all in dread and fear,
To see our ships, they would not wear,
The wind and weather increased sore,
And drove nine sail of ships on shore.
When we came to Northumberland Rock,
The _Lyon_, _Lynx_, and _Antelope_,
The _Loyalty_, and _Eagle_ too,
The _Elizabeth_ made all to rue:
She ran astern, and the line broke,
And sunk the _Hardwick_ at first stroke.
Now you shall hear the worst of all:
The largest ship had the greatest fall;
The great _Coronation_, and all her men,
Were all drown’d except nineteen;
The master’s mate, and eighteen more,
Got in their long boat safe on shore.
As to our ships, we value not,
Had it not fallen to our sailor’s lot;
The greatest loss is to their wives
In losing of their husbands’ lives;
And to Old England it may be more
Than nine sail of ships on shore.
[_NAVAL WARFARE OF 1692._]
To the Tune of _Aim not too high_.
To God alone let us all glory give,
By whose permission we poor mortals live,
And tho’ our enemies may swell with pride
He soon can compass them on every side.
King William is the glorious instrument,
Which by the providence of God was sent
To save our drooping laws and liberty
From French and Popish cruel tyranny.
When in dark gloomy cells the plot was laid
This free-born land and nation to invade,
Bold Brittain sail’d forthwith her royal fleet,
Which did the daring enemy defeat.
Renowned Russell let them understand
That, for the honour of his native land,
Thro’ smoke and flame he could with courage go
To face proud Lewis, that insulting foe.
No fear nor favour could his actions sway,
Nor could he in the least be drawn away
From acting like a noble hero bold,
For all the promised gifts of cursed gold.
[The] valiant Ashby let them feel his rage,
While death he rid in triumph o’er the stage
Of the French navy on the ocean main,
And English boys did victory obtain.
The spirits of the French began to faint,
So that they pray’d to ev’ry Popish saint
To help them in a time of sad distress;
Yet they were burnt and beaten ne’ertheless.
Admiral Carter fought them through and through,
The like of him before they never knew;
His chain-shot did their ships in pieces tear,
As if great Jove with thunder had been there.
Brave Delavall met with the _Rising Sun_
Of France, who to the shore for shelter run
With many more, which in a stately flame
He soon did set, our glory to proclaim.
Sir Cloudsly Shovel, with a valiant heart,
In this most glorious conquest bore a part;
His roaring cannons sunk them in the main,
From whence they never can return again.
The force of France he ne’er was known to fear,
But, like a stout commander, vow’d to clear
The seas of French, or they should make his grave
And monument in a rough roaring wave.
The next was Rook, that brave, heroick soul,
Who none alive could ever yet controul;
A dozen men-of-war of France he burn’d,
Who e’er next day was all to ashes turn’d.
The French was follow’d to their very shore,
Pursu’d with guns, which did like thunder roar:
Such admirals before was never known;
They scar’d old Lewis--nay, and shook his throne.
Nor were the valiant Dutch-men far behind:
They on the ocean bear a noble mind;
True sons of thunder, that will not retreat
Until they see their foes destroyed and beat.
Tho’ they had once been wounded on the main,
Like soldiers, they resolved to bleed again,
Or bring the proud insulting tyrant low,
Who strives to seek all Europe’s overthrow.
Those valiant souls let all good men commend;
Their lives they ventur’d freely to defend
Religion, laws, and likewise liberty:
’Tis better dye than live in slavery.
But God above, I hope, will ever bless
Our arms by sea and land with good success,
That victories may constantly increase
Till war is swallow’d in a glorious peace.
Now for King William let all subjects pray,
That God would guard his person night and day;
From all false friends, and likewise open foes,
Let angels guard him wheresoe’er he goes.
_THE ROYAL TRIUMPH; OR, THE UNSPEAKABLE JOY OF THE THREE KINGDOMS FOR
THE GLORIOUS VICTORY OVER THE FRENCH BY THE ENGLISH AND DUTCH FLEETS,
TO THE JOY AND COMFORT OF ALL TRUE SUBJECTS._
Tune is, _Let the soldiers rejoyce_.
Valiant Protestant boys,
Here’s millions of joys
And triumph now bro ... ught from the ocean;
For the French mighty fleet
Now is shatter’d and beat,
And destruction, destruction, boys, will be their portion.
Here’s the Jacobite crew--
Now believe me, ’tis true--
Invited the Fre ... nch to this nation;
Who was crossing the seas,
With the Teague Rapparees,
True cut-throats, true cut-throats, upon my salvation.
But, alas! they did find
A true Protestant wind,
Which five weeks or lon ... ger it lasted,
Till the most royal fleet,
And the Dutch both compleat,
They with thunder, with thunder this project soon blasted.
On the nineteenth of May
The French fleet made way,
To make of our cou ... rage a tryal;
They suppos’d we’d ne’er fight,
But they were’nt in the right,
For we show’d them, we show’d them we were true and loyal.
Our admirals bold,
With their brave hearts of gold,
They fell on like bra ... ve sons of thunder;
And their chain-shot let fly,
As the fleet they drew nigh,
Where they tore them, and rent them, and tore them asunder.
Our squadron, true blew,
Fought their way through and through;
At length in Lobs’ Po ... und, boys, we got ’um,
Where we gave the proud French
Such a fiery drench
That we sent them, we sent them straight down to the bottom.
Such a slaughter we made,
While the loud cannons play’d,
Which laid the poor Mo ... nsieurs a-bleeding;
Nay, their chief admiral
We did bitterly maul,
And have taught him, I hope, better breeding.
Our brave admiral
Being stout Dellaval,
Whose actions all m ... en may admire;
For the French _Rising Sun_
Was not able to run,
Which with seven, with seven more ships did he fire.
Valiant Rook sail’d straightway
Where a French squadron lay
Close amongst the ro ... cks then for shelter;
But we fell on galore,
And we fir’d twelve more;
Thus we fir’d and burn’d the French fleet helter-skelter.
Being sunk, took, and burn’d,
There’s not many return’d,
Was this not a wo ... full disaster?
How they far’d on our coast
Let ’em sail home and boast
To old Lewis, old Lewis, their fistula-master.
When he hears how they sped
It will strike him near dead,
Losing what he lo ... ng has been getting;
But we’ll have him to know
That we’ll still keep him low:
He shall never, shall never, boys, conquer Great Britain.
_ADMIRAL RUSSELL’S SCOWERING THE FRENCH FLEET; OR, THE BATTLE AT SEA._
Thursday in the morn, the Ides of May,
Recorded be for ever the famous ninety-two.
Brave Russel did discern by dawn of day
The lofty sails of France advancing now.
‘All hands aloft, aloft; let English valour shine.
Let fly a culvering, the signal of the line;
Let ev’ry hand supply his gun.
Follow me, and you’ll see
That the battle will be soon begun.’
Tourville o’er the main triumphant rowl’d
To meet the gallant Russel in combat on the deep;
He led the noble train of heroes bold
To sink the English admiral at his feet.
Now every valiant mind to victory does aspire;
The bloody fight’s begun, the sea itself on fire,
And mighty Fate stood looking on
Whilst a flood all of blood
Fill’d the port-holes of the _Royal Sun_.
Sulpher, smoak, and fire disturbed the air,
With thunder and wonder to fright the Gallick shore;
Their regulated bands stood trembling near
To see their lofty streamers now no more.
At six a clock the Red the smiling victor led,
To give a second blow, their total overthrow.
Now death and horror equal reign;
Now they cry, tun, or dye!
Brittish colours ride the vanquish’d main.
See they run amaz’d thro’ rocks on sands:
One danger they grasp at, to shun a greater fate.
In vain they crie for aid to weeping lands;
The nimphs and sea gods mourn their lost estate.
For ever more adieu, thou dazling _Royal Sun_;
From thy untimely end thy master’s fate begun:
Enough, thou mighty god of war.
Now we sing, ‘God bless the King,
Let us drink to ev’ry English tar.’
Come, jolly seamen, all with Russel go
To sail on the main, proud Monsieur for to greet
And give our enemy a second blow,
And fight Tourville if that he dare to meet.
Come, brother tar, what cheer? Let each [his gun] supply,
And thump ’em off this year, or make Mounsie[u]r to fly
While we do range the ocean round.
Day or night we will fight
When our enemy is to be found.
Let it ne’er be said that English boys
Should e’er stay behind when their admiral goes;
But let each honest lad crie with one voice,
‘Brave Russel, lead us on to fight the foes.’
We’ll give them gun for gun, some sink and other burn.
Broad-sides we’ll give ’em too, till Monsieur crys, ‘Morblew!
Des Engleteer vill kill us all.’
Whilst they scower we will pour
Thick as hail amongst them cannon-ball.
_A MERRY NEW BALLAD ON THE GREAT VICTORY OVER THE FRENCH FLEET, MAY THE
19th 1692._
To as merry a new Tune, _Hey! for the honour of Old England_.
I sing ye a ballad as round me ye stand,
Which is for the honour of Old England:
_Old England, Old England;
Which is for the honour of Old England_.
In the month of May, the year ninety-two,
The Englishman did his old valour show:
_Old England, Old England, etc._
We sent out our scouts the foe to descry
When Cape de Hague we were sailing by
_Old England, etc._
This was a good omen, we now understand,
And Lewis hates Hague by sea or by land:
_Old England, etc._
But in our Channel the battel was fought,
And so the French fleet in a net was caught,
_Net was caught, net was caught;
And so the French fleet in a net was caught_.
Yet Monsieur, expecting that all was his own,
On Admirall Russell did boldly bear down:
_Old England, etc._
He gave a broad-side, which was kindly took,
And then the _Britannia_ in thunder spoke,
_Thunder spoke, thunder spoke,
And then the ‘Britannia’ in thunder spoke_.
Till in musquet shot she fires no gun,
In compliment then salutes the French _Sun_,
_Old England, etc._
And warms her sides so that for all her might
She fairly tows off, and bids us good night:
_Old England, etc._
Thus have we been taught in a tale or old song,
French fury was never known to last long:
_Old England, etc._
When Tourville had given the signal to flye,
His squadrons, as ready, do westward, ho! ply:
_Old England, etc._
Some of his lame geese, not able to bear
Their heads above water, to the bottom they steer:
_Old England, etc._
The rest we pursue in their stragling flight,
And chase the poltrons most part of the night:
_Old England, Old England,
And hey! for the honour of Old England_.
The next morning was foggy; but when it grew clear
The chase was renew’d, and so was their fear:
_Old England, etc._
We made all our sail, and gave ’em no rest.
From point to point drove ’em, from west to east:
_Old England, etc._
Those coursers, so brisk at the starting-place,
Run heavily now through Alderney Race:
_Old England, etc._
Into Cherburgh Bay three tall ones did run,
Where a northern blaze burns up the south _Sun_:
_Old England, etc._
’Twas Heath did this feat; and Greenway another,
For the _Conquerant_ fell, in flames and in smother:
_Old England, etc._
And Fowlis was daring, though he miss’d his prey;
He flew at the _Sun_, but stoopt by the way:
_Old England, etc._
But now we are making for Bay Le Hogue,
Where on land, they say, are many a brogue:
_Old England, etc._
These doughty wights, those true Irish Teagues
Won’t let us come near ’em by several leagues:
_Old England, etc._
Such gallant alliance the French much imports;
They’ll save their friends’ ships, as they did their own forts:
_Old England, etc._
But manning our boats, those wise ones we cozen,
And burn in this bay thirteen to the dozen:
_Old England, etc._
This action’s far greater than that of Lepanto,
And merits alone a whole noble canto:
_Old England, etc._
For, like the old Britains, our men did assail ’em
In open boats, and naked we quail ’em:
_Old England, etc._
We storm’d their fore-castles, their decks we did scale,
And with their own canon we made ’em turn tale:
_Old England, etc._
Earl Danby commanded the headmost boat,
Which was in a moment from under him shot:
_Old England, etc._
Then a musquet ball does graze on his shin,
But still he goes on, more honour to win:
_Old England, etc._
Not a captain was here but toss’d up his brands;
The seamen were furies, with flames in their hands:
_Old England, etc._
What bonfires we made on our Norman coast!
Where William the Conqueror rules the roast:
_Rules the roast, rules the roast;
Where William the Conqueror rules the roast_.
But now in all pomps, where great men appear,
The post of honour is still in the reer:
_Old England, etc._
Brave Russel can never enough be prais’d;
Such trophies are owing as never were rais’d:
_Old England, etc._
To his courage and conduct great honours are due:
To all of the flag; the Red, White, and Blew:
_Old England, etc._
To Delaval, Almonde, Shovell, Ashby, Rook,
Whose names are all writ in Fame’s lasting book:
_Old England, etc._
To Carter, the bold! who never can die;
He only i’th’ bed of honour does lie:
_Old England, etc._
His story is great, for he comes not an ace
Behind Withrington in Old Chevy Chace.
_Old England, etc._
Nay, he is before him, for he fought on his stumps,
With joy in his face and not doleful dumps:
_Old England, etc._
Stout Hastings shall live; shall ever be famed,
With all our commanders, too long to be named:
_Old England, etc._
What need we say more? there is no occasion;
This French does excell the Spanish invasion:
_Old England, etc._
The downfall of Lewis le Grand is reckon’d
So far above that of Philip the Second:
_Old England, etc._
’Twas in eight eight Queen Bess swept the main,
In ninety-two Queen Mary the same:
_Old England, etc._
Now all English lads not enter’d their teens
Shall chant forth the praise of those Protestant Queens,
_Protestant Queens! Protestant Queens!
Shall chant out the praise of those Protestant Queens_.
Our London merchants will now live at ease,
May trade without convoys all over the seas:
_Old England, etc._
The New-Castle men may bring in their coals;
And never must Petres say Mass in Paul’s,
_Mass in Paul’s! Mass in Paul’s!
And never must Petres say Mass in Paul’s_.
_THE VALIANT SEAMEN’S COURAGE:_
Who by the order of the Right Honourable Admiral Russel did on
the tenth of May perform a brave exploit on the French, burning
thirty-eight sail of their merchantmen, and taking a man-of-war, to the
great honour of the English nation.
To the Tune of _Fond boy_, etc.
Joyful tydings I bring; let us merrily sing
Till we make the whole nation with triumph to ring;
For an admiral, he, by his conduct at sea,
Now has made the poor French-men to come by the lee.
_This is but the beginning of what we intend
For to shew them before the brave summer does end._
A detachment sent out bravely scour’d about
Till they put a whole fleet of French ships to the rout;
We were four or five sail, who to fight never fail,
And the one carry’d fiery flames in her tail.
_This, etc._
To these merchants of France we did fairly advance;
So good was our fortunate, prosperous chance
That we put them in fear: to the shore they did steer,
While we follow’d with thundering shot in the reer.
_This, etc._
Some was sailing for Brest and St. Malo’s, we guest,
To fair Dunkirk with stores and provision the rest;
But their voyage we stay’d and fierce havock we made,
While our thundering cannons against them we play’d.
_This, etc._
Quoth the frighted Mounsieur, ‘To de shore let us steer,
Here is coming five sail of de proud Englateer;
Now, begar, let us run from de noise of deir gun,
Or dey’ll serve us as dey did our dear _Rising Sun_.’
_Yet this is but a taste, boys, of what we intend
For to give them before the brave summer does end._
As they fled in disgrace still we mended our pace,
And, like true sons of thunder, we follow’d the chase,
Where in harbour near shore thirty-eight sail or more
We did set all on fire; in flames they did roar.
_This, etc._
When our project did take, such a flame it did make,
Just as if the seas had been a fiery lake;
All their charges and cost of their cargo were lost:
Now was ever poor French-men so plaguely crost?
_This, etc._
It was on the tenth day of this sweet month of May
When the valiant bold Britains did shew them this play,
And we make no great doubt, e’er the summer is out,
For to give them a sharp and more vigorous rout.
_This, etc._
Boys, the work we’ll compleat with a most royal fleet,
For we valiant tarpollins do scorn to retreat;
Not a French-man we’ll spare; let them come if they dare
On the ocean, brave Russel will fight with them fair.
_This is but a beginning of what he intends
For to shew them before the brave summer it ends._
_ENGLAND’S GLORY IN THE BEHAVIOUR OF BRAVE KILLEYGROVE._
All you that will be England’s friends, be you rich or be you poor,
Give ear to me and I’ll relate what happened in ninety-four.
’Twas in the month of December--mark well but what I say--
The _Plymouth_, with five frigates more, set sail out of Cales Bay.
Brave Killeygrove was commodore, bound up into the Streights,
Where he lost his life with many more, and this was their hard fate.
When we came off the Cape Boner, two ships we did espy,
Which prov’d to be French men-of-war, and to us they drew nigh.
They took us to be merchant-men, come down from the Levant,
From Smyrna or from Scanderoon, from Venice or Mercant,
Till bearing down before the wind, the truth of it to view,
They took us to be men-of-war, and they found it to be true.
O, then they tack’d, and we stood after, as fast as we could hie,
But before it was full three o’clock to them we did draw nigh.
O, then bespoke brave Killeygrove, to his men both brisk and free,
‘I make no doubt but in little time our prizes they will be.’
The French were not unwilling to fight, but to fire they did begin;
Then we gave them a whole broadside, which made their ears to ring.
We had not fir’d passing two broadsides, as I remember well,
But there came an unlucky shot, by which brave Killeygrove fell.
Then Raleigh was the second man that did take up the sword;
And bravely he did manage it, as you may take my word.
We had not been engaged there not past one glass or two,
But that the _Falmouth_ she came up, and she gave the last her due.
Next came the little _Adventure_ up, and her guns she fir’d so true
She put Jack Frenchman to the rout, he knew not what to do.
We being quite disabled, the _Carlisle_ she made way
After the biggest of the two, and she carry’d her the next day.
But had our mast and tiller held, O! then they would have seen,
Notwithstanding, for all the _Carlisle_, our prizes they should
have been.
But, to conclude, they were taken both, for all they were so bold,
And soon after they were carried into Marseilles Mold.
_AN EXCELLENT SONG, CALL’D THE FRIGHTED FRENCH; OR, RUSSEL SCOURING THE
SEAS._
To a Pleasant Tune.
Russel on the ocean, minding Tourville’s motion,
Made them to run at the noise of our guns,
And Toulon shall be their portion;
The French must trot it home by land,
Whilst Russel on the seas command.
Sound the trumpet, beat the drum, while the French do run,
_Sound the trumpet, etc., sound, etc., while the French do run
still before us_.
Now the spring’s a-coming, our English will be burning
Your towns that be builded near the sea;
You’ll find the sea-men booming;
Then let your armies all advance,
Yet we’ll lye on the coast of France,
Sounding trumpets, beating drum, while the towns do burn,
_Sounding trumpets, etc., sounding trumpets, towns do burn unto
ashes_.
The Turk and the barbarian, how the English fleet do scare ’em
And make them to know, before they do go,
That the French shall dread and fear ’em.
Now, Monsieur, bring out all you can;
We’ll fight you ship or man to man.
_Sound the trumpet, etc., sound, etc., man to man, we will fight
’em._
Each brave English freeman will be a jolly seaman;
With Russel we’ll go to fight the foe,
For the honour of Old England.
Let Tourville with his fleet then come;
Some we’ll sink and some we’ll burn.
Gun for gun we’ll give them too, while they cry, ‘Morbleu!’
_Gun for gun, etc., gun, etc., while they cry, ‘We are routed!’_
The Turks they are much grieved, altho’ they still believed
That the French fleet could the English beat,
But now they are deceived;
In Toulon they all do sneak and hide,
Whilst Russel in the Straights doth ride,
Daring Tourville for to come, and bring out his fleet,
_Daring Tourville, etc., daring, etc., bring out his fleet, for to
fight us_.
Since the French are frighted they by the world are slighted,
For Russel the brave is resolved for to have
The English nation righted;
He cares not what the French can do,
Since the Red squadron and the Blew
Are full resolved for to be masters of the sea,
_Are full resolved for to be, are, etc., masters, etc., in spite of
Monsieur_.
_THE CÆSAR’S VICTORY._
It being [an] account of a ship so called in her voyage to the East
Indies, richly laden, [which] was beset with five sail of Pirates; but
the Cæsar so rarely behaved herself that she came off with conquest
and put her foes to flight, losing no more than one man, and but seven
wounded, one of which was Francis Stevens, a Water-man, who formerly
ply’d at Puddle-Dock, who lost his arm.
To the Tune of _Cannons rore_.
As we was sailing on the main,
Well laded with great store of gain,
We was in danger to be ta’en:
Five pirates ships appeared,
Who sailed up with courage bold,
As if they would not be contrould;
But we brave noble hearts of gold
Their courage never feared.
We soon did understand their will,
And therefore used our chiefest skill,
Resolving there our blood to spill
Rather than lose our _Cæsar_:
We vow’d she should not be their prey,
And therefore, boys, we show’d them play.
It was upon the Sabbath day:
No pirates could appease her.
The master, flourishing his sword,
Did comfort to us all afford,
Both seamen, souldiers then on board,
True courage to awaken;
Then with one voice we all did cry,
‘We are resolved to make them fly,
Or in the _Cæsar_ we will dye,
Rather than to be taken.’
Before the fight we this did do:
Our bread into the sea we threw,
To make room for the whole ship’s crew
To fight and keep foes under:
This truth can never be deny’d,
We soon did quell their haughty pride
By giving them a full broadside:
Our cannons roar’d like thunder.
Full five long hours there we fought,
In the brave _Cæsar_, fierce and stout;
At length we put them to the rout
Who aimed at our treasure:
We pour’d them in whole showers of lead,
So that they tumbled down for dead
And in the ocean made their bed,
Where they may lie their leisure.