SEA-FIGHT AT MALAGO.

COME all ye brave sailors

That sail on the main,

I'll tell you of a fight

That was lately in Spain, And of five sail of frigates

Bound to Malago

For to fight the proud Spaniards,

Our orders were so.

There was the Henry and Ruby,
And the Antelope also,

The Greyhound, and the Bryan,
For Fire-ships must go.

But so bravely we weighed,

And played our parts,

That we made the proud Spaniards To quake in their hearts.

When we came to an anchor,
So nigh to the Mold,
Methinks you proud English
Do grow very bold!

But we came to an anchor,

So near to the town
That some of the churches

We soon batter'd down.

They hung out their flag of truce,
For to know our intent,

And they sent out their long-boats
To know what we meant.
But the captain he answered
Them bravely, "It was so,
For to burn all your shipping
Before we do go."

"For to burn all our shipping,

You must us excuse,
'Tis not five sail of frigates
Shall make us to muse."

But we burnt all their shipping,
And their sailors also,
And we left in the city
Full many a widow.

"Come, then," says our Captain,
"Let's fire at the church;"
And down came their belfry

Which grieved them much; And down came the steeple, Which standeth so high, Which made the proud Spaniards To the nunnery to fly.

So great a confusion

We made in the town,
That their lofty buildings

Came tumbling down;

Their wives and their children

For help they did cry,

But none could relieve them

Though danger was nigh.

The flames and the smoke
So increased their woe,
That they knew not whither
To run or to go;

Some to shun fire

Leapt into the flood,

And there they did perish
In water and mud.

Our guns we kept firing,

Still shooting amain;

Whilst many a proud Spaniard

Was on the place slain ;

The rest being amazed
For succour did cry,

But all was in vain,

They had no where to fly.

At length being forced,

They thought it most fit, Unto the brave Englishmen

For to submit:

And so a conclusion

At last we did make,

Upon such conditions
As was fit to take.

The Spanish Armada,
Did England no harm,
'Twas but a bravado

To give us alarm;

But with our five frigates

We did them bumbast

And made them of Englishinen's

Valour to taste.

When this noble victory

We did obtain,

Then home we returned
To England again;

Where we were received
With welcomes of joy,

Because with five frigates

We did them destroy.

ROXBURGHE BALLADS.

SIR RICHARD GRENVILLE'S LAST SEA-FIGHT.

THE war of battle thundered

Along the darkened seas,

The clouds of smoke stirred slowly

All night upon the waters
Like blots the vessels lay,
Save when the flashing broadside
Lit up their dark array :
When morning slowly reddened
The cloudlets in the east,
The battle had not ended,

The thunders had not ceased.

O! few were English sailors,

The guardians of her fame, And faint with weary combat,

With wounds from shot and flame.

Grimly they grasped their weapons
When that fierce fight begun,
Small hope was left to cheer them
Beneath the morrow's sun.

For motionless the captain

Lay stricken down below,
While hearts on deck held bravely
The ship against the foe;

Though fast their strength was ebbing,
Though racked with frequent pain,
Though with resolve unceasing

The foe came on again.

"Ware boarders!" at that summons

New life thrilled fierce along The sailors' veins, and passion

Made wearied spirits strong: