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 have known her; Two hundred pounds in coyn and plate, he gave with free good will, Unto them that bravely fought in the Angel Gabriel.

LVIII

England's Triumph at Sea

A MIGHTY great fleet, the like was nere seen,
Since the reign of K. W. 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 never were such,
Nor so little done when expected so much,

which nobody can deny.

Eighty-six ships of war, which we capital 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 again, 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.

Torrington now must command 'em no more,

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 tane 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.

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 midst of May last they sail'd on the mayn,
And in September are come back again,
With the loss of some ships, but in battle none slain,
which nobody can deny.

LIX

Aamiral Russel's Scowering the French The Battle at Sea

Fleet: or,

THURSDAY in the Morn, the Ides of May,
recorded 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.

Turvil 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 began, 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. Sulphur, smoak and Fire, disturb'd 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, Run 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 evermore adieu, thou dazling Royal Sun, From thy untimely end thy master's fate begun; enough, thou mighty God of War!

Now we sing, bless the Queen,

let us drink to ev'ry English tar.

Come, Jolly Seamen all, with Russel go,

to sail on the main proud Mounsier for to greet, And give our enemy a second blow,

and fight Turvil, if that he dare to meet.

gallick-shore] French coast.

Come, brother Tar, what cheer? Let each (his gun) supply,

And thump 'em off this Year, or make Mounsier 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'd give them gun for gun, some sink, and others burn.

Broadsides 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.

LX

The Royal Triumph

VALIANT Protestant Boys,

Here's Millions of Joys,

And Triumph now bro. . . . ught from the Ocean; For the French Mighty Fleet,

Now is Shattered and Beat,

And Destruction, Destruction, Boys, will be their

portion.