Preserv’d me from dangers for thy tender love,
For I have been where thundering cannons did roar,
Their bullets like footballs flying from the shoar;
The danger of tempest and cannon balls too
I have undergone, I have undergone
For the sake, love, of you.
MOLLY.
My dearest, it’s true, for the fault is in me,
For thou wouldst have wed, but I said, ‘Go to sea.’
But when thou wert gone how my heart was opprest!
I scarce had a minute of pleasure and rest,
For by day all my fear was of danger to thee,
And by night I did dream, and by night I did dream
Still of storms on the sea.
BILLY.
My dear, thou dreamst right, for e’re we got home
For several days we had storm after storm.
We lost all our masts and our tackle to boot,
In tempestuous nights on the ocean did float.
But, thanks unto Heaven, we had no men lost,
And the brave _Royal Sov’rain_, the brave _Royal Sov’rain_
Come safe to our coast.
MOLLY.
Oh my dear precious, my Billy, my joy,
There’s nothing my happiness now can destroy;
For since thou art [safe] from all cannon and storms
Thy person to me has a million of charms.
Oh, stay then on shore; never venture again
Upon the rough seas, upon the rough seas,
But with me, love, remain.
BILLY.
Thy love unto me now is dearer than life,
And happie am I since thou wilt be my wife,
And while I’m on shore still with thee I will stay,
Imbracing thy charms, love, by night and by day,
Till our admiral doth sail with the fleet on the main;
Yet kind Providence, I hope, yet kind Providence, I hope,
Brings me safe back again.
_ADMIRAL BENBOW._
Oh, we sail’d to Virginia, and thence to Fayal,
Where we water’d our shipping, and then we weigh’d all.
Full in view on the seas, boys, seven sails we did espy;
Oh, we manned our capstan and weigh’d speedily.
The first we came up with was a brigantine sloop,
And we ask’d if the others were as big as they look’d;
But turning to windward as near as we could lie,
We found there were ten men-of-war cruizing by.
Oh! we drew up our squadron in very nice line,
And boldly we fought them for full four hours’ time;
But the day being spent, boys, and the night coming on,
We let them alone till the very next morn.
The very next morn the engagement prov’d hot,
And brave Admiral Benbow receiv’d a chain shot;
And when he was wounded to his merry men he did say,
‘Take me up in your arms, boys, and carry me away.’
Oh! the guns they did rattle, and the bullets did fly,
But Admiral Benbow for help would not cry.
‘Take me down to the cockpit; there is ease for my smarts.
If my merry men see me it will sure break their hearts.’
Our brave Captain Crosbie proved coward at last,
For he stood at bo-peep behind the main mast;
He stood at bo-peep and did quiver and shake
For fear that those French dogs his dear life should take.
The very next morning, by break of the day,
They hoisted their top sails and so bore away;
We bore to Port Royal, where the people flocked much
To see Admiral Benbow carried to Kingston Church.
Come, all you brave fellows, wherever you’ve been,
Let us drink to the health of our King and our Queen;
And another good health to the girls that we know,
And a third in remembrance of brave Admiral Benbow.
_THE DEATH OF ADMIRAL BENBOW._
Come, all ye seamen bold, lend an ear, lend an ear,
Come, all ye seamen bold, lend an ear:
’Tis of our admiral’s fame,
Brave Benbow called by name,
How he fought on the main you shall hear, you shall hear,
_How he fought on the main you shall hear_.
Brave Benbow he set sail for to fight, for to fight,
Brave Benbow he set sail for to fight;
Brave Benbow he set sail
With a sweet and pleasant gale;
But his captains they turned tail in a fright, in a fright,
_But his captains, etc._
Says Kirby unto Wade, ‘I will run, I will run,’
Says Kirby unto Wade, ‘I will run.
I value not disgrace,
Nor the losing of my place;
For my enemies I’ll not face with a gun, with a gun,
_For my enemies,’ etc._
’Twas the _Ruby_ and _Noah’s Ark_ fought the French, fought the
French,
’Twas the _Ruby_ and _Noah’s Ark_ fought the French;
For there was ten in all,
Poor souls, they fought them all;
They valued them not at all, would not flinch, would not flinch,
_They valued them, etc._
Hard fortune that it was, by chain shot, by chain shot,
Hard fortune that it was, by chain shot,
Our admiral lost his leg,
And of his men did beg,
‘Fight on, my British boys; ’tis my lot, ’tis my lot;
_Fight on,’ etc._
While the surgeon dressed his wounds thus he said, thus he said,
While the surgeon dressed his wounds thus he said:
‘Let my cradle now in haste
On the quarter-deck be placed,
That mine enemies I may face till I’m dead, till I’m dead,
_That mine enemies,’ etc._
And there bold Benbow lay, crying, ‘Boys,’ crying, ‘Boys,’
And there bold Benbow lay, crying, ‘Boys,’
‘Let us tack about once more;
We’ll drive them all on shore:
I value not a score, nor their noise, nor their noise,
_I value not a score,’ etc._
[Unsupported thus he fought, nor would run, nor would run,
Unsupported thus he fought, nor would run
Till his ship was a mere wreck,
And no man would him back,
For the others would not slack to fire a gun, fire a gun,
_For the others, etc._
For Jamaica then at last he set sail, he set sail,
For Jamaica then at last he set sail,
Where Wentworth he did try,
And those cowards that did fly
And from the French in fright turned tail, turned tail,
_And from the French, etc._
And those found most to blame, they were shot, they were shot,
And those found most to blame, they were shot;
Brave Benbow then at last,
For grief of what was past,
In a fever died at last, by hard lot, by hard lot,
_In a fever, etc._]
_THE SAILORS ACCOUNT OF THE ACTION AT VIGO._
Muse will have her song; hark! she merrily sings,
The praise of a Queen that has beaten two Kings:
Of Ormond and Rook too, and how they fell on,
And flat as a flounder laid Monsieur and Don.
Bright Eugene and Marlborough shou’d live in our rime,
And other brave heroes too, had we but time:
But heroes excuse us, for now Muse and I go,
To raise to the stars the dead-doers at Vigo.
_You Monsieurs and Dons, if with losses you meet,
Yet don’t be discourag’d, we’ll pay off your fleet._
Cries a hawk from the wing, the eagle-ey’d Hardy,
Game! game! royal game! we shall take ’em all tardy:
In Vigo they ride, men of war, galleons,
The might of the Monsieurs and pride of the Dons:
Lead on, great commander, sink, burn, take the Plate;
’Twill all be our own, if we don’t come too late.
We’ll brisk up old England with fame and with plunder:
We’ll win’t, tho’ we charge thoro’ lightning and thunder.
_You Monsieurs and Dons, if with losses you meet,
Yet don’t be discourag’d, we’ll pay off your fleet._
Sir George sends the news to the stout Hogen Mogen,
Then squadrons we join without any proroguing:
Soon Vigo we reach, where a deodand cloak,
A cloke sent from heaven, wraps us and our oak.
Unseen we consult, and resolve to break in,
But not with our first rates, least the brine be too thin:
On the thirds high in view, are the first rate commanders,
This rums the brisk seamen, and brandys the landers:
_You Monsieurs and Dons, if with losses you meet,
Yet don’t be discourag’d, we’ll pay off your fleet._
My dear Baladina, let’s stop and take breath:
One glass and no more then; for halting is death.
Here’s a health to the Queen. I’ll pledg’t; one had said,
Sir, speech up your men that they may’nt be afraid.
Afraid? And a speech? says a sailor there by,
Sir, you slander the fleet, and your country bely.
Let cowards be speecht, that spur is here vain;
The English need rather the curb and the rein.
_You Monsieurs and Dons, if with losses you meet,
Yet don’t be discourag’d, we’ll pay off your fleet._
_The Second Part._
Great Ormond first lands with his jolly marines,
Then fit to serve Anna the greatest of Queens:
In order they march, two thousand and all,
All handsom young men, all lusty and tall.
Of the Dons and their guns they do but make sport,
Defy their whole army, and ravish their fort:
They had blockt up their port with mast, cable, and chain,
But Hobson soon taught ’em ’twas labour in vain.
_You Monsieurs and Dons, if with losses you meet,
Yet don’t be discourag’d, we’ll pay off your fleet._
Your boom is now cut, and your fort is now taken,
And now, rogues, where are you? Now where is your bacon?
Your Shaterino, we shall make him to skip;
But, scorning to yield her, he burns his tall ship:
’Twas a forest alone, ’twas a new _Rising Sun_,
But alas! this must set, as the former had done.
Surviving confounders against us still roar,
Excuse them this once and they’ll do so no more.
_You Monsieurs and Dons, tho’ with losses you meet,
Yet don’t be dismay’d, we have paid off your fleet._
Now after work, wages, we’ll laugh and relate,
O, what a rich cordial is plunder and plate!
Both Monsieurs and Dons had been many moons rigging
And thousands of hands many years had been digging:
But (O, ’tis to them a sad tale to be told!)
For us ’twas they rigg’d, and digg’d silver and gold.
The dreadful now quake, and the poor galleons
Surrender rich cargo to tars and dragoons.
_But what is’t to us if with losses they meet?
If we had their money, we paid off their fleet._
O, Britain, be thankful for such a good Queen!
The like since great El’zabeth never was seen:
Be thankful for statesmen who don’t rob and starve us;
For sea and land worthies that fight to preserve us:
Be thankful for Ormond, the Churchills, and Rook;
But yet, let me tell you, God never will brook
Your cursing and swearing, your lying and cheating;
These winds are contrary, they’ll hinder defeating.
_Let Lewis repent too; for what can he gain,
Who looses his soul for the kingdoms of Spain._
_ON THE SEA FIGHT BETWEEN SIR G. R. AND TOULOUSE, 1704._
Who does not extol our conquest marine?
_Courage and conduct, Rook and Tolouse_,
’Twas the sharpest engagement that ever was seen.
_Courage, etc._
An action so glorious was never yet known,
_Courage, etc._,
Where no ship was taken, and no trophy won.
_Courage, etc._
’Tis plain that the French by Sir George were out-shot.
_Courage, etc._
They only th’ advantage, we victory got.
_Courage, etc._
Their fleet a whole day we did terribly maul,
_Courage, etc._,
And pursued them two more without pouder or ball.
_Courage, etc._
The flag-man that madly the close fight began,
_Courage, etc._,
Had lost all his squadron and not sav’d a man,
_Courage, etc._,
Had not the cool admiral, to prudence inclin’d,
_Courage, etc._,
The distance maintain’d in spight of the wind.
_Courage, etc._
We conquer’d the French, but had they been beat,
_Courage, etc._,
Our conquest, tho’ glorious, had been more compleat
_Courage, etc._
If our hero aboard no laurels has got,
_Courage, etc._,
Yet he triumphs at home and is victor by vote.
_Courage, etc._
_A SONG ON THE SAME._
As brave Sir Rooke Tholouse did beat,
So brave Tholouse beat him;
But whensoe’er they meet again
George will his jacquet trim.
They both did fight, they both did beat,
They both did run away;
They both did strive to meet again
The quite contrary way.
_THE SAILOR’S TRAGEDY; OR, THE LAST FAREWEL OF CAPTAIN SMITH._
To the Tune of _Sail before the mast_.
I am in a consternation at my now approaching death;
It’s my woful lamentation e’re I do resign my breath
I shall write this fatal morning, which I mean to leave behind.
Let my ruine be a warning evermore to all mankind.
Often have I sail’d the ocean, with a proud, aspiring heart,
Aiming still at high promotion, far above my due desert.
Having lost my first commission, I cou’d not be satisfy’d
Till the steps of grand ambition led me to the fall of pride.
Wholesome laws and human reason could not guide nor govern me:
Therefore did I practice treason--nay, unto a high degree.
In the _Nightingale_ I sailed, and oppos’d our gracious Queen;
Law has over me prevailed; justice now steps in between
Me and all those flights of honour which I eagerly persu’d,
Fighting under the French banner; but this day I must conclude
My sad life, with tears of sorrow, which I in abundance shed.
I can bid my griefs good morrow, but my joys are from me fled.
Had I been but true and loyal to her present Majestie,
Then I had never stood the tryal or by lawes been doom’d to dye;
But I suffer as a traytor ’gainst the Queen and Government;
Sure there cannot be a greater grief to make the heart relent.
O, that ship which I purloined was the _Nightingale_ by name,
In the which I once designed to have purchas’d lasting fame:
But by chance she was retaken, for indeed we could not fly.
Now of friends I am forsaken, since my death is drawing nigh.
When I pass along the city towards Execution Dock
I shall meet with little pity, every one at me will mock:
On me they will cast reflections, which will cause much discontent;
Let this quail the fond affections of the proud and insolent.
Farewell to the joy and pleasure which I formerly have had:
Now my griefs are out of measure, my heroick heart is sad;
All my comforts are departed, there is nothing left but grief,
Conscience wounded, broken-hearted, Lord, afford me some relief.
Blessed Father, don’t forsake me in the bitter pangs of death.
Of thy tender mercy take me, when I shall resign my breath,
To thy glorious habitations, which are free from care and strife.
Farewel to all tribulations which attends our humane life.
Now the sad and dismal hour of my death is drawing nigh;
Tho’ the fates may seem to lower let the loving standers-by
Grant me now their prayers and pity, which does worldly wealth excel.
Now I end my mournful ditty and you see my last farewel.
_THE VALLIANT ADMIRAL; OR, THE WONDERFUL SUCCESS OF SIR JOHN LEAKE_,
Who took a hundred sail of laden transports from the French, which he
sent to Barcelona.
To the Tune of _Thursday in the morn, etc._
Now of noble, hardy men of might,
And those that with valour can heartily maintain
In the bloody field King Charles’ right,
To make him happy on the royal throne of Spain,
Of these I mean to sing
While fame is on the wing,
Glad tydings to convey,
How we the other day
Did many laden transports take
On the seas, with much ease,
By the right renowned Sir John Leake.
Now the French have lost their trusty friend,
Who used to inform them of all our State affairs;
On his letters they did still depend,
By which we oft were drawn into fatal snares;
He’s gone, he’s gone with shame.
Now valiant men of fame
Can prosper when they go,
And daunt the daring foe,
Making their stubborn hearts to ake,
As they find Fortune kind
To the right renowned Sir John Leake.
Under his command the royal fleet
With transports and tenders was for Lisbon bound.
This passage ’twas his chance to meet
The French, which he did manfully encompass round,
A hundred sail and more,
As they was passing o’re
Towards the banks of Spain,
All loaded well with grain.
We ninety of those barks did take,
Which was there, by the care
Of the right renowned Sir John Leake.
When our flying streamers they beheld,
And stout men-of-war, which was likewise rarely man’d,
They were with exceeding sorrow fill’d.
A thousand times in vain they wish themselves on land.
Aloud they cry’d, ‘Morblew.’
Alas! that wou’d not do.
The British lyon bold,
Which scorns to be controul’d,
Caused their stubborn hearts to ake;
Took they were by the care
Of the right renowned Sir John Leake.
This vast fleet of barks was then convey’d
Under the protection of three French men-of-war.
Finding they by us captives were made,
Alas! they rung their hands and cry’d aloud, ‘Begar,
De Britains bold are come,
With cannon, trumpet, drum,
To seize upon our corn,
And make us all forlorn.’
This was the mourn which they did make;
For they found they were bound
To submit to valliant Sir John Leake.
Cloathes for many thousands were on board
Those barks which was taken, and naval stores likewise:
Barley, oats, and wheat, which did afford
Much comfort to the army of the Grand Allies;
For well we may conclude,
They having store of food,
And other comforts still,
They’ll fight with right good-will
And of the French strange havock make;
Then let’s pray, night and day,
For the right renowned Sir John Leake.
To fair Barcelona they have brought
Those rich laden cargoes, worth many thousand pounds.
O the French commander little thought
They should meet with crabid Fortune’s fatal frown:
But so it came to pass;
Each looking like an ass
At their unhappy doom,
How they did fret and foam,
While we joy and triumph make,
Drinking still, with good-will,
To the right renowned Sir John Leake.
_THE SEA-FIGHT; OR, THE FRENCH PRIZE TAKEN: A BALLAD._
‘To your quarters, my lads; we are now within shot;
Let your guns be all loose in their tackle,
Your ports be knock’d open, and every thing got
In a right ready order for battle.
See, see that the decks and the gun-room be clear,
And take care that your matches be lighted;
Tho’ she boldly bears down she shall find when she’s near
That we bold Brittains scorn to be frighted.
‘Up noise of trumpets; be brisk; hail our prize.
Hark: she answers again with her trumpets.
She’s resolv’d to engage; to the windward she plys.
See, her colours are out and her drum beats.
Hold fast, jolly gunner; let Monsieur begin;
We are able, my boys, to receive him.
If he galls us at first, when we get him close in,
We will make him submit e’er we leave him.
‘Cheer up, golden boys; we are never the worse,
Tho’ sh’as pour’d in a broad-side upon us;
She only has rak’d us a little: no force,
Jolly lads, have the enemy done us.
Their turn shall be next. Port easy, edge nigh her;
Be sure bear your guns to a tittle.
God give us good luck, and now, gunner, give fire.
Zounds! starboard; now shear off a little.
‘Huzza! my good lads; that was done to our mind.
She’s our own; we shall certainly have her.
See, see, she bears up with a stiff gale of wind,
That her leaks may be stopped which we gave her.
Port, port, for she shoots ahead from us apace;
Hoist the topsail and bear briskly after;
Now, gunner, with good store of langril and case
Let the guns be all loaded for slaughter.
‘Thus, thus; keep her thus; well steer’d, my good boys,
I find we shall soon be upon her.
Now, lads, for the gold that’s aboard of the prize;
It will all be your own when you’ve won her.
Port easy, edge tow’rds her, and run up her side.
Now under our lee we have got her;
As stout as she seems we shall humble her pride.
Now, gunner, give fire and have at her.
‘See, see how the enemy lye heads and points.
Our shot have done great execution;
We have shatter’d their limbs, and so mangled their joints
That they are all in a bloody confusion.
Now board ’em, my lads; see you[r]lashes are clear;
Huzza! and couragiously enter.
I hope we shall find e’ery Brittan that’s here
Will be bold in so brave an adventure.
‘How they hide between decks; by their skulking they show
That the French are but puny bravadoes.
Wounds! cut up her hatches, and ply ’em below
With your stinkpots and hand granadoes.
Avast: they submit and cry out for their lives.
Good quarter we’re ready to grant ye.
If you’ll lay down your arms, and come out of your hives,
And obey me as I shall command ye.’
“Yea, yea, we surrender.” ‘Then haul down your sails,
And furl ’em without opposition;
For he that crys “Quarter,” and after rebels,
Shall be hanged without any compassion.
Now loose all your lashings and shear off the ship.
We are clear. Go and hoist out the shallop.
Bring the pris’ners on board, but not load her too deep,
Least the ocean should swallow ye all up.’
‘Be sure you take care of the captain and those
In commission, and civilly use ’em;
For tho’ they are pris’ners, as well as our foes,
’Tis beneath British souls to abuse ’em.
Good fortune to them the success might have gave;
Let us therefore respectfully treat ’em;
For tho’ they are conquered they yet may be brave,
Tho’ but cowards to those who have beat ’em,
‘How chear yee, my lads? is not this jolly sport?
See how Fortune invites you to fight on.
Stand in with our prize to the next merry port;
Tow her in for the honour of Brittan.
Now fling up the bowl; bring an anchor of Nantz;
Let the doctor thank God for His mercies;
Then we’ll drink the Queen’s health to our captives of France
With a French man-of-war at our arses.’
_THE LOSS OF THE EDGAR_
The dismal lamentation of the widows and fatherless children for the
loss of their husbands and relations, that was blown up on board the
Edgar man-of-war, October, 15, 1711.
To the Tune of _Aim not too high_.
1ST WOMAN.
Hark! hark! alas! what fatal news is come!
It strikes a terror great thro’ Christendom.
2ND WOMAN.
What is it, neighbour? Pray, to me unfold.
1ST WOMAN.
The sadest news that ever mortal told.
2ND WOMAN.
Hold me not in suspence, good neighbour, pray,
But tell me quickly what you have to say:
I hope our ship and all in her is well;
I long to hear you. Pray, come quickly tell.
1ST WOMAN.
Here is a letter--O prepare your ears!--
From Gosport Hospital. Let floods of tears
Flow from your eyes: the gallant Edgar’s gone.
Ah! neighbour, neighbour, well may we make moan.
Your husband dear and mine, and many more,
Are blown up in the air, near thirty score,
By fatal chance of powder; by one blast
Our tender husbands now have breath’d their last.
Here comes a messenger can tell the rest;
I cannot speak, I am so much opprest.
Come, gentle messenger, relate their woe,
And tell, in brief, the truth of all you saw.
MESSENGER.
I was at Spithead that time, and saw the sight.
I was amaz’d; my soul it did affright:
Five hundred persons blown up in the air;
Their shrieks and cries no mortal cou’d declare.
Some short-allowance mony was to be paid
That fatal day, for which on board they stay’d.
They merry were, and little did they dread
That the next moment they should all be dead.
Removing gun-powder some hours they was;
That powder wrough[t] their dismal woes, alas!
Thro’ some neglect fire to th’ powder got,
And all these people kill’d upon the spot.
Blown in an instant up, at once indeed;
That dreadful blow makes hearts of stone to bleed.
Like roaring thunder gave a dreadful crack;
Both ship and people quickly went to wrack.
Legs, arms, heads, hands, feet, hips, bones, back and thighs
By fire and powder flew up to the skies.
Shatter’d at once in shivers up they flew,
And in an instant fled from mortal view.
Their sudden shrieks, gone just before they went,
Did eccho shrilly, and tho’ all was bent
To help them in distress, yet it was vain,
Their ship in thousand pieces rent in twain.
2ND WOMAN.
O wretched sight! O fatal was the day!
O my dear husband, art thou fled away?
Was this thy fatal exit from this world?
No grave! but peace-meal was thy carcass hurl’d.
O heavy message! the sad tidings spread:
O my dear husband, are you from me fled?
My soul sinks deep with grief for this my loss,
In deep despair my parting soul is toss’d.
1ST WOMAN.
Ah, neighbour, neighbour, you are not alone.
Here’s hundreds of us to lament and moan
Our poor unhappy husbands’ fatal fall.
Sweet Jesus Christ take pity on us all,
Children and widows send up doleful cries;
Their lamentations pierce quite thro’ the skies:
Bereft of earthly joys, with grief opprest,
’Tis God alone can ease each troubled breast.
Their earthly stay and staff from them is gone,
Wherefore they must depend on God alone.
And our good Queen will pity of them take;
Then grant them help for blessed Jesus’ sake.
One man of all that number is alive,
But is so weak he cannot long survive.
Then let us all prepared be for death,
Since none knows when we must resign our breath.
By providence the captain just before,
With’s lady too, did chance to go ashore.
Some other officers and sailors too
Are sav’d, and did that danger quite eschew.
Then let us all our sinful lives amend,
Since God such punishments to mortal send.
Let’s bear in mind this tragedy just past,
And strive to live as each day was our last.
_THE SAILOR’S COMPLAINT._
Come and listen to my ditty, all ye jolly hearts of gold,
Lend a brother tar your pity who was once so stout and bold;
But the arrows of God Cupid, alas! have made me rue,
Sure true love was ne’er so treated as I am by scornful Sue.
When I landed first at Dover she appeared a goddess bright.
From foreign parts but just come over I was struck with so fair a
sight;
On the shore pretty Susan walked near to where our frigate lay,
And altho’ so near the landing, I, alas! was cast away.
When first I hail’d my pretty creature, the delight of land and sea,
No man ever saw a sweeter, I’d have kept her company;
I’d fain have made her my true love, for better or for worse,
But, alas! I could not compass her for to steer the marriage course.