NAVMACHIA, OR HOLLANDS SEA-FIGHT.
Non equidem inuideo.
LONDON, ¶ Printed by T. P. for Thomas Law, and William G [...]rat. An. Dom. 1622.
To the Right Honorable and Noble George Lord Gordon Sonne and Heire to the Right Generous and Potent, the Marquesse of Huntley.
RIGHT HONOVRABLE, &c. Although the obscurenes both of my selfe and merits, may seeme to breed some preiudice of boldnes and presumption in me, daring thus to present my selfe, and a small worke of mine equall in merit to my selfe, to you a Heroe indued with no lesse Goodnesse, than greatnes, of equall Vertue and Honor, Of a like Courage & Courtesie, of as much Clemencie as Valour, Paralels that sieldome meet in one.
Yet Fame the blazer of good Actions, resounding from yours, to our Coasts, the report of your Honourable Courtesie and loue to good Endeauours, I haue bin emboldned by this small Present, to manifest the loue, or rather seruice I owe to your selfe and Honourable Name; a Name no lesse knowne and renowned Abroad, than loued [Page] and honored at Home, as terrible to foes, as gtatefull and pleasing vnto friends. And although the Noblenes of your honorable and ancient Progeny with the noble and Warlike actions of your Valorous and renowned Father & Ancestors might yeild to you, their generous Of-spring, sufficient cause of praise & glory; yet you knowing, that the good parts of body, or prosperous casualties of good Fortune, can scarce bee called or accounted our own; you I say to these haue added Vertue, the beauty & strength of mind, knowing that Nobilitas sola est atque unica virtus. This hath made you Non tibi sed toti genetum te credere mundo Go on thē generous Gordon, and by attaining the height of Vertue, obtaine the top of honour; Be you a Gem in the Vnion of Great Brittaine, follow the footsteps of your renowned Father, and if it be possible in vertue out goe him; and according to your genererous disposition accept this small Present of your humble wel-wisher, the gratious acceptance of which shal stir me vp to some greater endeavor wherby to eternize your Name and Vertues.
Sola (que) non norint haec monumenta mori.
Your Honours to be commanded, Abra: Holland.
NOBILISSMO, ET GEnerosissimo Domino Georgio, comiti Ingeiensi Anagramma.
Georgius Gordonius comes Ingeiensis,
Egregio dignus ensi, sic Musis honor ego.
CLare, Caledonios, Heros aucture triumphos,
Et Scotico titulos exhibiture Polo:
Cuius et indomitos generosi pectoris ignes,
auxit, Hyperboreas, nix, populata plagas:
Te (que), tuum (que) genus claris insigne Trophoeis,
norunt Arctophylax, plaustra (que) pigra gelu,
Plaustra per vndosos numquam subitura recessus,
dum videant vultus, sidera grata, tuos.
Tu long is lumen tenebris, et gente remota
Pierijs gratam das Helicona choris.
Te Phaebum (que) suum putat et Caledonia Martem,
qui fulges aequè Martis, et artis honor:
Ergò armis te bella canant; te carmine Musae,
qui potes et Musis et decus esse tubae:
Andraeas Scoticis, taceat (que) Georgius Anglis,
hinc Scoticis Numen, Gorgius alter erit.
Honoris tui devotissimus. Ab: Holl.
To the same Noble Earle, two Acrosticke Stanza's.
Glory in you is like the Sun, which giues
Eternall splendour, yet is often hid,
Ore-shadow'd in some clime, when yet he liues
Reviving still: the world cannot forbid
Glory her beames; but like fires hid in night
Expresse at last a more refulgent light.
Grace then the Muses, who can giue you light,
Obliuion it selfe can neuer hide,
Respect those Sacrifices, by whose might,
Demigods soone are wholly Deifide:
Onely giue pardon to me, who can giue
Nothing else yet, to make you longer liue.
A. H.
¶ In Honor of the Noble Marquesse of Huntley, and his true Generous Sonne, the Lord GORDON.
THE Royall Eagle Ioves owne Bird, to trie
As they report her true borne Progenie,
Ere she admit them for her owne, or grace
Them to be called of the Eagles race
To Phoebus rayes, and the sight-dazing skie
Sh' exposes all her vnfleg'd infancy:
And those that beare the bastard searching light
With eyes vndazled, and with nobler sight
Can brooke the iudging flame, these as sure-knowne
Indulgently she brings vp for her owne;
But those whose bastard eyes cannot endure
The piercing splendor of a light so pure,
These as false-got the Royall foule refuses,
And onely those which she hath tried, chooses.
Thus, Noble Lord your Father, whom of all
We truely may the Northerne Eagle call,
So doth he soare and still aspire aboue
The vulgar pitch; so for the truest Ioue
Hath he in cruell wars borne venfull thunder,
Bringing the barbarous High-land sauage vnder:
Wherein you his true Sonne he made to try
The glorious sunne of Magnanimity.
Which you with noble mind so well endur'd,
That hence your Father hath been well assur'd
Of a true Sonne: So may both Sire and Son
Be tri'de at vertues never-setting Sun.
To my friend M. A H.
BY this one lim, my Holland, we may see
What thou in time at thy full growth maist bee,
Which wit, by her owne Symetrie can take,
And thy proportion perfectly can make
At thy Ascendant: that when thou shalt show
Thy selfe; who reads thee perfectly shall know
Those of the Muses by this little light
Saw before other where to take thy height.
Proceed, let not Apollo's stocke decay,
Poets and Kings are not borne euery day.
Michael Drayton.
To his louing friend M. Abra: Holland.
SEnd forth, young man, from Muses wombe,
Thy other Royall births at home,
But slowly, slowly send them forth
Least for their number, and their worth
The enuious hand of fates take hold,
And crop thee; for they'le thinke th'art old,
Ed: Cory.
To my Brother A. H.
AS thy first Muse doth wit and learning show,
So let true wisdome with thy learning grow.
Your Brother, Hen. Holl.
¶ Amico suo Abrahamo Hollando, D. Philemonis F. in Naumachiam suam.
NAumachiam lustrando tuam, mihi flumine visus,
Ingenij placido deperijse tui:
Arma virum, tabulas, galeas, & scuta per vndas
Aspicio, & mens est Carmine mersa simul.
Emergo! & tabulas votivas dedico Musae,
Docte Hollande tua, quae bene ficta canit.
El: Petl.
To my honest friend M. A. H.
That this small peece the world should hazard first,
Of other better work's, thy Muse hath nurst;
To wonder I was forc't, vnlesse't be done
As a small starre doth vsher forth the Sunne.
I. VV. I C.
❧ A Caueat to his Muse.
WEll Minion you'le be gadding forth then? goe,
Goe, hast vnto thy speedy ouerthrow:
And since thou wilt not take my warning: Hence,
Learne thy owne ruine by experience.
Alas poore Maid (if so I her may call
Who itches to be prostitute to all
Adulterate censures) were it not for thee
Better, to liue in sweet securitie
In my small cell, than flying rashly out,
Be whoop't, and hiss't, and gaz'd at all about
Like a day-owle: Faith Mistris you'le be put
One of these daies to serue some driveling slut,
To wrap her sope in, or at least be droven
To keepe a Pie from scorching in the Oven;
Or else expos'd a laughing stock to sots,
To cloke Tobacco, or stop Mustard pots,
Thou wilt be grac't if so thou canst but win
To infold Frankincense or Mackrills in,
You deem't forsooth a matter of high worth
To haue a fame among'em: New come forth;
And thinke your chiefe felicity is marr'd
If you be not perch't vp in Paules Church-yard
Where men a farre may know you in a trice,
By some new-fangled, brasse-cut Frontispice.
Such book's indeed as now-dayes can passe
Had need to haue their faces made of brasse.
Is it not then sufficient for you
To stay at home among the residue
Of better sisters: where my dearest Will,
And other friends would praise and loue thee still:
Him and my other harts-halfes I account
Intire assemblies, and thinke they surmount
A Globe of addle Gallants: I averre,
One iudging Plato worth a Theater.
But you me thinks of all the rest should feare
The searching rayes of censure, least you bleare
You tender fame: who can choose but disdaine
The first Minerua of an idle braine.
Pen'd ere I well was past a boy, or downe
With silken mosse, my maiden chin did crowne.
Blacke Lycophron redeem'd of late by mee
From the darke graue of deepe obscuritie,
And taught to stalke in English measures, dreads
The censure of the Beast with hundred Heads,
And keeps close home: like one from deepe of night
That cannot quickly brooke the dazling light.
My labour'd Merlin, Brittish Lycophron,
Still sitteth in his dreary delue alone,
And as yet wary Prophecies, that who
Leape into'th world too soone, themselues vndoe.
My devout Holy-dayes yet secret lurke,
And dare not frame themselues vnto a worke.
My merry Paradoxes, still laughing sit,
And dare not mocke the world, in Publicke yet:
Yea my deare Syren-twins, keepe still at home
Though almost fledg'd and ready now to rome
About the world: with hundred crotchets more,
My Patromonie, Portion, wealth and store,
Yea and these riches so contentfull, I
Would not forgoe for all the Treasury
Th' Exchequer holds) wilt thou then of them all
Dare in these times distracted clutches fall?
Oh, tis a way that spoiles things haply good
When itching youngsters crop themselues i'th bud,
And so proue rotten before ripe, to win't,
That they may have their names but seene in print.
But seeke not thou about the world to gad
Before thou hast an Eagles triall had;
Then dare to Impe thy full fledg'd wings and flie
Neerer than other Muses to the skie.
Out-face the Sun, and sing such notes as may
Approue that thou art worthy of the day.
Great glory sure they get and solide fame,
Who to obtaine a Month-enduring Name
Make monstrous bookes, which did they fill the stalls,
Yea were they pil'd vp to the top of Paules
Would quickly vent, when for a month or two
One shall not passe but he shall heare adoe
And fresh enquiries for the booke; anon
Ye shall heare faintly, This, a yeare agon
Was a braue booke, this was a booke indeed.
Ah haples he who now is put to read
The jade-tir'd lines. Thus both such bookes & makers
Are both of same fame, and same fate partakers.
Liue for a day, and flourish, but at night,
Like the short Roses, vanish with the light.
But care not thou whether vaine fame doe giue
That thou dost now, or maist heerafter liue.
And know that Poem's truely fram'd, relie
Not on the present but posterity.
And learned Poets think't sufficient gaine
If that they after death may but obtaine
Their Postume glories: nor thinke that these times
Can rightly iudge of well deseruing rimes,
We must expect another age, for this
Scarce knoweth whether prose or Poem ti's.
For Poem's now admir'd, are onely those
Change but the words a little they are prose
As plaine as Holinshed, each feeble line,
As foot-pac't as this poore L'envoy of mine.
But tell me when thou into'th world art come
How wilt thou please the multitude, when some
Vnlesse thou canst outbaudy Martial,
Or loose-pen'd Arbiter, will stiffly call
Thee slight and witlesse: did but this clew lead thee,
The greatest Ladies then would daine to read thee
And in their perfum'd bosomes would infold
Thee willinger, than Chaines of Pearle and Gold,
Or Aristotles Problems: great men would make thee
Their nere companion, and to Church would take thee.
Instead of Psalmes (if so to Church they goe,
God knowes aboue whether they do or no.)
Others there are whose addle empty braines
Vnlesse thou fill with loue-sicke-puling straines
Will proue starke made against thee: All in all
Would haue this garbe: the Prentice at his stall
Itching would buzze vpon thee: and each maid
That faine would yet dare not professe the trade
Because sh' ha's been well brought vp: Infinite
The number is will call thee Parasite
Because thou medlest not with any things
Touching the State, Embassadors or Kings,
O such an one, say they: To these replie
So deare I will not my repentance buy,
Nor will I tread in such vnequall measure,
As at my danger to procure you pleasure.
But what I can, will striue to blazon forth
My Countries honour and my Kings: the worth
Of any person who shall merit prayse
For such I watch and bite the frantick bayes
But the most part are such as those who vow
That Muse is dull and drie whose crabed brow
Skoul's not forth Satires: the Meere title seene
But of a scourge excell's the Faery Queene.
To these say thus: would you haue me, a Muse
So rude and vnexperienc't to abuse
Her harmles quill? write satyres? That's the worke
of brazen pens, with danger that dare ierke
And sweare their Inke from blushing: which expert
In the bad world dare venter to insert
Particulars which makes the world to sweare
They needs a part in wickednesse must beare
They open it so naked: such their spirit
Caesar with them is Casar if he merit:
For me to satyrize from blow-point age
Cloister'd in circuit of a college cage
where my experience of Ill nere flew
Beyond the lurching of a dish or two,
Where sophismes miss't were held crimes out of reason
And the not capping fellow's chiefest treason,
The greatest Libells there they hold of take
Some cowl-slaffe shew or witty Almanaka.
And such faults as are punisht by the Deanes
I know not what a states corruption meanes,
What bribery is; or what it is to wracke
The vulgar neckes, or breake the commons back
but satyrists sterne quill must rip vp faults
From womb of night whose acting makes the vaults
Of Heauen blush, which in a fearefull brood
Are hatch't by sin and nourtred by blood
Headlong reuenge, Extortion, Orphans crie
Are fitt for them, and fearefull Leachery
But I a Muse that drinke a milder Chalice
Shall I poore snake creepe in and sting the malice
Of crimes more fit for Iuvenall, or him
That wrap't his lashes in obscure and dim
Clouds of reuenge, asham'd to tell the crimes
Openly which were acted in those times.
To liue in Court I nere so high could rise
How should I then begin to satyrize.
Nor am I yet so wicked as to bee
Experienc't in all iniquity
Which satyrists must scourge: I shall in time
May be vnto the gall of satyres climbe
If this cannot content their quenit enquiry
Tell'em thou hast a brazen pen, with fiery
Full fled'gd, heart-goring wings, a stubborne pen
Not to be spent on paper but on men
With inke steep't full of bitter gall. Now flie
Vpon the wings of humble modestie
And thy selfe happy herein vnderstand,
That thou must come to such a Heroes hand
Whose onely name can free thee from the hate
Of vulgar preiudice, and vindicate
Thee from the Lethe of obliuion. Thus
Wishing to thee some lucky Genius
Farewell my Muse: and think't a shame to rush
Into the world and seene there once, to blush.
NAVMACHIA, Or the Poeticall Description of a Bloody Sea-fight.
AS the Sun once lift vp his burning Lampe
On top of hils, and fiery steeds gan stampe
Along the blew-floor'd skie, the Charriotier
Made his firce horses run a full Carreir:
He whipt 'em on, so that their blood there shed,
Made the cleare Balcon of the East looke red.
He posted on as if he meant not stay
To make a Summer, but a winters day:
Or as if he had wager'd that his teame,
Sooner than wont should souze in western streame:
The steeds themselues with speed vnvsuall flie,
As frighted at this sea-bred Prodigie.
There came along cutting deepe Neptunes brow,
A misty masse, to call't I know not how:
Whether a running Towne, or wauing Wood,
Or moouing Delos tumbling on the Flood,
Which seene a farre scud on the watry way,
Prodigious Affrick seemd, or Asia.
Who getting Neptunes Pas-port, came to see
Their Sister Europe in her brauery.
At whose approch the curled billowes rore,
And as it comes fearefully roll before.
Th' oppressed tower-like Whales lie bellowing vnder,
That Neptune seemes t' vsurpe his brothers thunder.
The silent Fish presaging future bloud,
Against their kind run frighted into th' mud:
And had they wings, would from the Sea haue broken,
And but for churlish nature would haue spoken
To manifest their feare, yet what they might,
They fled apace to shun the dreadfull sight.
And flying from the Sea in trembling shiuers,
With their thicke sholes pester'd the lesser riuers.
The Oceans King feeling such weight on's backe,
With leaning on his Trident made it cracke.
Had it not been immooveable, they say,
The earth this time would faine haue fled away.
Th' amazed shore as the fleet neere sounds,
Almost forgot to keep's ordained bounds.
The earth and shore so trembling, you'd ha sayd,
Feare, not inclosed winds, this Earth-quake made.
Fame with her feet on earth, and head i'th' spheares,
With wings plum'd full of wonderment and feares,
Flies ore the land, and forth her rumours blazes,
And with increasing dire reports amazes.
The stoutest courages still as she goes,
Sh' augments the power and valour of the foes.
Tel's of strange engines, instruments, and whips,
Framed to act their cruelty, and ships
Prodigious bigge, vizards, and murthering Kniues,
Butcherly malls for slaughter, Halters, Giues,
And all the men like Giants: Thus she flies
Increasing still the Terrour, and with lies
Makes a true feare: and ere it was well spide,
She sweares the fleet in such a place did ride.
And all the men were landed: such a towne,
Was battered, and such a castle downe.
Another Citty without doubt was ta'ne,
And at the winning of it, more men slaine
Then it contain'd: Thus monstrous Fame doth range her,
And maketh feare more fearefull then the danger.
And thus as Fame her flying terrour doubles,
Each diuers state is wract with d [...]uers troubles.
Great men doe feare that they here-by shall fall,
Which the poore man doth hope to rise withall.
The peaceable do hereby feare annoyment,
The needy Ding-thrift hereby hopes imployment.
The Coward this way feareth he shall die:
The valiant looke for immor [...]ality.
The louing Wife doth feare her Husbands life,
And he as much is troubled for his Wife.
Stout old men wish that they were young againe,
Base young men wish that they in age were ta'ne:
Women for feare weepe out their tender eyes,
Dumpe Infants almost answer to their cryes.
In all the disagreement, which is here,
They all agree in this, that all doe feare.
The Beacons now were fir'd: as if the flame
Euen here a contrarity did claime
Against the water, whose prodigious light,
Men feard on land, as in a stormy night
The Sailers feare Orion, which but seene,
Pronounces vnto Mariners, the teene
Of angry clouds. And now those noble Spirits,
Whose onely ayme is by their haughty merits
To out-liue fate, and for their Countries good
Thinke it a glory to powre forth their blood,
Meete all together, as deuote to giue
Their owne liues that their Countrymen may liue.
Thus in all ages, and we still may trie
Of life the worthi'st, readiest are to die.
Who hasting to their ships in speed, begin
To shew the aduerse party should not win
Without resistance, shewing there were made
Men as well to defend as to invade.
Our Admirall breath's forth a stout All-arme,
The aduerse fleet Ecchoed rebounding, Arme.
As when by sound of hollow brasse, or tin
The scatterd bees, buzzing with murmurous din,
Throng in one heape, to some well-branched tree,
Leauing their sweet, and harmelesse the every;
And so by craft betray'd, are in a trice
Captiu'd all in their narrow Edifice.
Thus at their Captaines voice, the vulgar sort
To their assigned stations resort;
With quicke confused hast the tumult's led,
And speed, by too much speed, is hindered.
All to their charge with trembling boldnes run,
With quaking hand one charges first his Gun,
Another girds his threatning sword on's side;
Some clasps their steelie Helmets; sheilds are tied
On trembling armes apace, that one might then
Haue thought th' had been all mouing Iron men.
And now the Martiall steely-pointed staues
Were snatch't in hast: the heauy murdring Glaues:
Bowes bent to slaughter: weighty Courtelaxe:
And Darts Death's Harbingers; the black bill, axe.
And other armes which before rusting stood,
But now are brought forth to be skour'd with blood.
Our saile-wing'd fleet launcheth fro' th'shore now eased
Of it's dread burden, nor was th'earth more pleased
To see from her one hideous terrour past,
That grieu'd to see another come as fast.
One might haue thought the battell was begun
To see how Neptune first was thorough run,
How the sterne brasse his curled forehead tore,
And trembling waues were strucke by cruell oare.
Each Fleet the Captaines had deuided soone,
Into the formes of the halfe-circled Moone;
But as their furious hornes together met,
These two halfe-moones a full Moone did beget;
Which like to that in Heauen, as it did goe,
Made the fleet waters strangely Ebbe and Flow.
Now as with proud aduance they neerer came,
Those beasts which gaue the saile-rul'd vessels name,
With an aspect more grim than is their life,
As breathing nought but bate, and balefull strife,
Come fiercely forward all, as if from thence
They meant to moue their painted Residence.
The Lyon, Elephant, and sauage Hogge,
The Libard, Tygre, Ounce, and cruell Dogge
Sternely affront each other, one might guesse
In midst of Sea a sauage Wildernesse,
Wherein with admiration, one might see
So many a fierce wild beast, so many a Tree.
But now our valiant Generall traversing
About the fleet encourag'd them, rehearsing
This speech, wherein he brauely did exhort
To th' Fight, which ready cut th' Oration short.
Courage braue friends, and that is all I pray,
Strength cannot want, where Courage leads the way,
But what need I th'vndaunted hearts excite,
Of them whose eies me thinks already fight;
Looke as ye doe, and ye shall neuer need
Weapons, or hands to make your foes to bleed.
Your look's shall strike 'em dead, and warlike sight
Shall put your fearefull enemies to flight.
What ere ye aime at, heere before you lie,
Honour, Reuenge, Spoile, Riches, Victorie:
Which if they mooue not, see your Natiue Land,
Your Nurse, your Mother, see how she doth stand
Afarre to marke, which of you best shall render
The Meed of Nurture, who shall best defend her,
Them will she honour; brauely then driue backe
This vast Sea-monster, which is come to racke
Your Nursses entrailes, com't but once to Land,
The very Earth will be affraid to stand
It's cruell brunt, whither if reach it can,
The blood and teares will make an Ocean
Deeper than this: I see'em now repaire
(O let my Omen vanish into aire.)
Vnto our Land; see how like Wolues they rage
About the coasts, sparing nor sex, nor age.
See how they pull strong wals of Citties downe,
Leauing the men as naked as the Towne.
They raze your sacred Temples, and not leaue
A hallowed place, where after ye may heaue
Your hands for aide to heav'n: Your Altars frames,
These wicked wretches, with prophaned flames
Sacrifice to their anger; yea they dare
To open Ghostly Tomb's, and thence lay bare
Your Ancestors sad Coffins: whose dead ashes
Instead of teares, their Childrens blood be-dashes.
They dragge our ancient Parents vnto slaughter,
Answering their dying grones with cruell laughter.
Our younger Wiues and Sisters they deflour,
And basel [...] make our neerest kinsmen, our
Most hated foes; our tender infants rawle
Scarce borne, being borne vnto their funerall.
These things, which, heav'n be thank't, I but suppose,
Vnlesse yee helpe will once aduance our foes.
Say that our Nauy be farre lesse than theirs,
Haue not great ships, amids their swift carriers
Beene staid by little Remoraes: Then on,
And let not this cold Element, whereon
We are to fight, quench those couragious flames
Which burne in euery manly brest, that aimes
At immortality, but strike so sterne,
That the dumbe fishes may heereafter learne
To speake your praises, and each waue report
Vnto it's neighbour, in how valiant sort
Ye fought, till that the Oceans vtmost bound,
And farthest Thule with your fame shall sound:
Yea that the Sun, when he at night shall presse
This way, may goe and tell th'Antipodes
What acts he saw; nor yet of ayd despaire,
The Sea it selfe, if need shall aske, will spare
A thousand of his streaming arm's for you,
All fish prooue sword-fish to fight for our due.
Thinke for no refuge heere to flie, your hand
Not feet must bring you backe againe to land:
No longer will the time with vs dispence,
What my speech wants, my sword shall recompence.
Now 'twixt a thousand liues, a thousand death's
Of time one little winged minute breath's
The loud-mouth'd Gun, onely expects the fire,
At touch of which, as burnt, it should expire
It's skrieking voice, groning that so much death
Should be accomplish't by th'infectious breath
Of it's dire mouth; Darts ready are to part
To hide their heads in some ill fortun'd hart.
Arrowes, and Muskets leuel'd, seeme to kill,
Before they can in act, in fierie will.
One might haue thought viewing this fearefull sight,
'Thad bin the picture of a Navall Fight.
But harke th' amazing signes of battell sound,
Making the lands remote, and rockes rebound:
The shrill voic't Trumpet and couragious drum,
In barbarous language bid the foes to come.
Death's horrid vizar now begins t' appeare,
In their pale faces; terrour, and gastly feare
In their amazed hearts doth panting rise,
And future blood bath's in their fiery eyes.
Sterne Cruelty aduanceth in their lids,
With headlong fury stalking in the mids:
Apelles present here or one so skil'd,
Might haue made pictures hence that would haue kil'd.
The thundring Ord'nance now began to rent
Th' amazed aire, the flames before it sent,
Seeme lightning, and as deadly bullets flie:
Prodigious haile seem'd to powre downe the skie,
Smoake made a clowdy mist, and all together
Seeme on the sea to make tempestuous weather.
To call for ayd here, stands as much instead,
As in that place, when from a doubtfull head.
The seauen-mouth'd Nilus, with a desperate shocke,
Headlong doth tumble from th' amazed rock;
Making the people on the neighbouring shelues,
That hearing him, they cannot heare themselues;
Thus the fights noyse made many a man to fall
In troublous death, a silent Funerall.
Alas those Elements which vse t' vp hold
Our crazy liues, with their iust heate, and cold,
Making compact our bodies constitution,
Striue now to cause it's vtter dissolution
The quicke and piercing fire, as it doth burne
Their wofull carkasses, doth freezing turne
Their minds to quaking feare, and chill despaire,
The liquid, flitting, and all-searching aire
Admitts remorsles shot, and murdring darts
Denying breath at last to coole their harts.
The theevish water though it ran away
With suttle shifts, did notwithstanding slay
And swallow most, with a deuouring flood,
Onely poore earth, starke, still, astonished stood.
Who viewing this would not haue thought a wonder
That without raine, wind, lightning, haile, or thunder
Or hidden shelues, or rocks sea-ambusht back
Or any temrest, ships should suffer wrack?
That one might heere haue term'd it, choose you whether
A strong Calme, or calme tempestuous wether.
See winged arrowes posting through the skie
How quicke they hast froth' battells rage to flie
The trembling speares, as souldiers doe them shake,
Seeme at their Maisters dangrs that they quake:
The flashing swords, which sheathed once they ware,
Seeme now to feare, being vnarm'd and bare.
But now each fleet, each ship with hope-full pride
Clash altogether, furious, side to side.
As when two winds in blacke tempestuous wether,
With boistrous wings impetuous meete together
With their vntamed and resistles iustle,
Making high turrets shake, and cedars rustle,
Where in light shirmish they remaine contending,
Till out of breath th' are faine to make an ending
Now death's at hand, and night together keepe
Cleare life, and dreadfull death's blacke iron sleepe,
Fierce rage, sad griefe, blind Fury now grow higher,
Good cause when sence of touch and hearing nigher
Men now with men contend, and ships with ships,
One body 'gainst another; here one skips
Into his enemies deck, but beaten back
He leaps to's owne, of which if so he lacke,
He fall's in sea; much like a wave, whose head
By vrging winds vnto the shore is led,
And thence by brest of the oft-drowned shore
Taking a blunt repulse, for spight doth rore,
And staggering runs backe; and is this all
Ambition aymes at, in the way to fall?
Their tired sences labour'd in such wise,
That they grew dull with too much excercise
Their troubled eyes, viewing such gastly sights,
Wisht that sad darkenesse cancell'd all their hights:
That horrid noise the battell made, was such,
Hearing heard nothing, 'cavse it heard so much
Tast is of death, ranke blod pollutes the smell,
What feeling felt they all did feele too well.
Such a confusion racks their senses here
Th' had Reason now to wish they sencelesse were.
Grim death in purple, stalkes vpon the hatches,
With pale and griesly lookes see how he snatches
Hundreds a once vnto him, till the dreary
Lean-face't ill-favord Death of death grew weary.
See on the sea how thousand Bodies float
From their great ships hasting to Charons Boat,
Which crabbed Skuller now might thinke it meet
His old-torne Boate should be new-chang'd a Fleet.
The tumults noise pierc't the blew-arched skie
The chrystall Aire fill'd with a deadly crie,
Onely in this was blest, as blowes abounded,
It could be euer cut, yet neuer wounded.
The silent Earth glad that shee was debarr'd
From this sad Fight, yet inwardly was heard
The dreadfull strokes rebounding loud, to mone
And Eccho made her yeeld a hollow grone,
But this cause chiefly made her most to raue,
That to her due the sea should prooue a graue.
Neuer did strong-breath't Aeolus disturbe
The sea so much, When he can hardly curbe
His madding pages, when they raging muster
To quarrell with the waues, or whistling bluster
Among the well-set trees, and branched bowgh's
Singing through chinks of some decayd house:
Nor sterne Orion with his stormy light
Appalling shipmen, doth so much affright
The soone moov'd sea, as did this battels noise,
Which Neptune answer'd with his bellowing voice,
Who as the Fleet's vrg'd neerer to the strand
Which tumbling pace, ran frighted vp the sand,
That had not bounds restrain'd his element,
His watery vaile had cloth'd the Continent.
The fearefull winds on th' Ocean durst not rome,
But least they should be smother'd kert at home.
And there sat sighing: Clouds their rane doe keepe,
Though ready at the battells sight to weepe,
Least their pure drops with gore-blood should be staind
So that no winds blew, nor from heauen it rain'd;
Maruaile not yet at tempests on the flood
So many teares stream'd, and such streames of blood,
Nor without winds are waues to be admir'd,
So many grones and dyings brea'ths expir'd.
The Oceans skaly, silent wandring nation
Seeing pale armed troups inuade the station
Of their vast kingdome, downe the sanguine flood
Fearefully glide, fearing their future food.
The tender Nymph's who with their siluer feete
Vse on the plaines of crisped Thetys meete,
Where tripping prettely th' are wont to dance
Themselues, into a heauenly slwmbring trance
Of sweet repose, at these in humane shocks
With haire all torne creepe into th' hollow rockes
Wher shrouded they to meditate began,
No rocke so flinty as the heart of man,
The rocks though alwaies struck by waters fury,
The rockes yet patient beare this iniury;
Yea Thetis selfe whose woombe enriched bare
That fearefull Thunder of the Troian war
Stubborne Achilles, who in fight did win
Such glory, wisht that warr's had neuer bin.
So she, with all her trembling watery peers
Augment the brinish sea, with brinish teares.
Ships now begin to burne, that one might see
Neptunes and Vulcans consangunity
Yea now these ships, which free from water stood,
Strangly begin to sinke with humane blood,
Which as from thence with fearefull gush it ran,
Fill'd vp the wrinkles of the Ocean,
Making with purpose gastly gored hue,
Of one Red sea which was before, now two:
Which sea so full of Dead, it hence might come
Well to be called, Mare Mortuum.
The quaking ships with murmuring guns are rent,
Whose wounded sides the gored streames doe vent
Of dead and wounded men, who lay therein,
As if they had their Beeres or coffin's bin:
They lay therein and as the ships did goe
Seem'd bloody, bloodles, dead, and mooving too.
The furious fire with flames doth vndermine
The towring Mast, made of the lofty Pine,
So that same tree which oft hight's Nuptiall's,
Now Cypresse-like doth burne at Funerall's.
And eaten by the galling flames, at last
Fall's downe the huge, high, heauy weighted Mast,
And as great things are wont, fell not alone
Killing a troupe nor of it's foes, but owne.
The tacklings, sail's, and cables now doe burne,
And fire casts Anchors, neuer to returne.
About their eares the whistling bullets sung,
And wandring wild-fire made th' affrighted throng
Croud into corners speedily, and they
That durst stand men, to sensles fire giue way.
As when with in the fat Trinacriansoile,
Inflamed Aetna doth begin to boile,
When nak't Pyracmon, with his round-ey'd fellowes,
Sweatinh heaue vp their huge strong-breathed bellowes,
Thundring vpon their steeled Anviles top
To furnish armour for their smoaky shop;
Their pondrous hammers, and redoubling, makes
Enceladus belch out his sulph'ry flakes
Of veng-full wrath, then may you see blackesmoke
Vomiring out, wrapt, in a pitchy cloke,
And the hard bowels of the mountaine, torne
By fetter'd fire, with a strange bounding borne
Vp to the cloulds, whose fearefull fall to shun,
The neighbouring people with a maz'ment, run
To shroudin'g Dens, hiding them closely vnder,
Fearing from high, and from below a thunder.
Then did th' inhumane battels fury rage,
Nor could the sea th' increasing flames asswage.
And Mars himselfe, in Adamantine armes,
With a hoarse voice rores out against all-armes,
He that would now haue travailed to hell,
Might haue seene weary sweating Charon well
In feruent labour, with his mossy oares
Tugging pale shaddowes to th' ore-swarmed shores;
Which on the bancks as they lamenting crept,
Wailing Cocytus in compassion wept.
Acheron flow'd with griefe, and as they say,
Lethe it selfe could neuer forget this day,
The Furies whin'd, by Plutoes Iudgement cast,
Who sware their rage was farre by men surpast,
One coming heere might tired Clotho spie,
How she could fearse her weary arm's apply
To turne the wheele; and Lachesis repine
Who sware she could not threds of mortalls twine
So fast as they were cut; you might haue seene
Atropos raging with remorsles teene
And seeking each where for some greetty stone
To whet her sheeres, whose edge was dulled growne
With too much cutting of their fatall thread,
Whose haples liues this gastfull battell shed.
Fire now and water did not each contend,
But seeme their power so mutually to lend,
That at this time there many a one became
Burn't in the sea and drowned in the flame.
This one good hap to carkasses did fall,
Th' had fire to burn 'em at their funerall.
The mangled ships not fearing to be drencht,
Gladly take breaches, thereby to be quencht.
But now thou Tisiphonc, infernall Muse
Rouzing thy selfe from Stygian sleepe, peruse
The various Images of dreary Fate
Hapning in this sad Fight, and Intimate
Them to my mind, which well, I thinke, agree,
Not with a sweete, and heauenly Muse, but thee.
Th' Industrious Pilot sitting at the sterne,
VVhere in a little card, he can discerne
The vast vncertainetie of Neptunes haunt
Ruling swift ships by powerfull Adamant,
Here as he sits retir'd, and watchfull minds
The frequent change of two and thirty winds
Comes an vnruly shot, and him doth force
To certaine death, change his vncertaine course,
So he that wont stern blasts in truce to bind,
Could not foresee when he should loose his wind,
From stormes, and Mists of Death he could not free
Himselfe, who wont the Tempests curbe, but he
Who bearding Neptune, vs'd on th' Ocean float,
Is now controll'd in Charons little boat.
The Master ranging vp and downe the Deck,
And wounded mortally, to him doth beck
His Mate, who hasting to his ayd in vaine
Is there together with the Maister slaine,
And at once ended with him his liues Date,
Proouing himselfe truely the Masters Mate.
The Trumpetter, with braue reuiuing sound
Quickning their dying harts, is fell'd toth' ground,
And as in's mouth he still the brasse did wield,
His dying breath made it a dead march yeeld,
And hauing lent his Trumpet so much breath
In's life, it turn'd him some againe at's death.
The Drummer with his nimble hand repeating
His doubled blowes, without compassion beating
His harmlesse drum, which seem'd with groning cry
To murmur at his Maisters cruelty,
Sodenly two rash bullets rudely come
Tearing both skin of drumer, and the Drum,
Drummer of life, of sound the Drum's bereft:
So Drum, and Drummer both are speechles left.
The Gunner as with nimble hast he runs
To fire his seldome-vaine-reporting Guns,
His head a leaden-winged bullet hits
And his hard braine-pan into peeces splits,
He of a thousand this alone might vaunt,
That of his death he was not ignorant,
And this true riddle might of him abide,
He liued once by's Death, by's life now dide.
Here comes a Captaine, with vndaunted face,
Encouraging his souldiers to the Chace,
And being about to say, be braue and bold,
An vntaught bullet rudely bids him hold,
And as death's mist in his dull eyes did wander,
Beseeching ayd he left to be commander,
And he whose voice from fainting thought to call them,
By's dying grone doth fearefully apall them:
This leader faithfull to his vtmost breath
Can onely now lead them the way to Death.
See how to steale the wauing flagg, one climbs
Vp by the cards, but being espied betimes
Tangled i'th' ropes, he is of life bereft,
And so is hang'd for his intended Theft.
But the cords burnt wherin his leggs were bound,
He gets a Pirats death both hang'd and drown'd.
Some vnder hatches closed, in despaire
Mount vp their foes with powder into the aire,
Which done it seem'd a strange prodigious sight
A troupe of armed men to maske the light:
It seemeth yet that they no damage meant 'em,
Who the next way vp into heauen sent 'em
Making them flie, beyond Dae dalian skill,
In the vast aire, without a winged quill,
Giuing to them a strange vnwonted death,
Who hauing aire too much yet wanted breath.
See see the lot of sad Mortality,
Our chiefest help's, helpe oft to Miserie,
Some men who came secure from future harmes
Inroll'd in well-proou'd steely clothed armes.
Fall by mischance into the sea's dire hand,
Whence being vnarm'd they might haue sworn to land:
Their armes doe sinke, and without mercy end 'em
So kill'd by that which chiefly should defend 'em.
One with his Musket ready to giue fire
Aymes at another aduerse Muskettier,
But his match missing fire, hee's forc't to die
By the others matches true fidelity,
By which he di'de, can scarc'ly well be knowne,
Whether by th' others Musket or his owne.
See there a Coward wanting heart t' abide
The daunting face of the fierce aduerse side,
Slinketh behind the next, not caring whither,
Comes a mad shot, and kill's 'em both together;
Praise him in this, for though his life outdar'd him
To equall th' other, yet his death compar'd him.
Neuertheles if truly ye doe mind him,
As in his life, in's death he came behind him.
One seeming now his side begin to faile
Shew's them their colours, while himselfe lookes pale,
Sure by this man some Omen ill was showne,
To keepe their colours, who could loose his owne.
Those men who chanced in the ships to fall
The cruell sea was made their buirall.
And into th' waues without remorse were throwne,
Poore men, slaine by their foes, drownd by their owne.
A Fisherman who nigh them cut the Maine
Sitting in's boate was with a bullet slaine,
And the barke fir'd wherein he dead did fall.
Which gratis, burnt, gaue him his Funerall
True to thy Maister, kind boat, who with him
Didst oft in life, and now in death do'st swim
With him aliue in water that didst tire
Thy waue-beat sides, dy'st now with him in fire.
Yet me thinks thou shouldest not deserue this turne
Who so oft plung'd with him which shouldest burne,
Yet saile with him t' Elysium, saile the faster,
In Carons stead that thou maist waft thy Maister,
Strang Boat which thus we not amisse may call
His Life, Death, Charon and his Funerall.
A Noble man that was a Renegate,
While he against his King doth boldly prate,
A shot takes off his head, as if twere reason
That he should be beheaded for his Treason.
A baser fellow while he dares complaine
And raile against his once owne Soveraigne,
A true Liege-man, as he thus boldly brags,
Striketh him vp, and his vile body drags
About the ship, and while he vainely begs,
Remosles cutteth off his armes and legs,
And thinking then to throw him in the tide
Hee's caught vpon an Anchor on the side,
That one beholding rightly might haue sed,
He iustly was hang'd, drawne, and quartered.
Some fearing swords, into the sea doe flie,
And so for feare of death, feare not to die.
Some fall into the Ocean stain'd with gore,
Which from their former wounds had gusht before,
Which kill'd not them, as it from them was spil'd,
But entring into them againe, th' are kil'd.
Heeres one about to strike, his foe doth fall
Into the sea, before he can recall
His erring stroke, striking the sea to stay him,
The Ocean in revenge o'th blow doth slay him.
One fearing death doth faine to die and bleed,
And while he is in faining, dies indeed.
Another being about to strike his foe
Looseth at once his arme and threatning blow:
His left arme shiuering, reaches at the other,
But cut atwaine, lies with it's equall Brother,
Both ioyn'd, though both devided, as in spight
Of Death, they meant to part their last good-night,
By shaking hands: the miserable truncke
As loth to part, fainting vpon them sunke.
One seeing them together thus, might say,
There a whole bodie, all in peeces lay.
See two with sturdy grapple, striuing whether
Should overcome, both fall in sea together;
Embracing both till they haue lost their breath,
And seeme though foes in life, yet friends in death.
Two brothers slaine, as they together stood,
One then might sweare, they were allied in blood.
Other two, who so nigh resembling, were
A lov'd mistake vnto the parents deare,
(Cruell death sever'd them) and that one left
Poore parents knew, of errour now bereft:
He left eternall cause of griefe renewes,
Who still aliue, still his dead brother shew's:
And yet to them this comfort still he giues,
Th' one cannot die, so long as th'other liues.
The wounded souldiers, now that all else failes,
To stop their wounds, doe teare their woful sailes:
Poore men who after they were overthrowne
Had torne those wings, wherby they might haue flown.
One with his bleeding ready to expire,
Thinks with his blood, to quench the ship on fire:
And so in mids of flames he bleeding stands,
Tearing new wounds with his kind cruell hands.
And grieu'd to see his blood so little profit,
He oft adds teares to helpe the quenching of it.
Till at last fainting he is faine to fall,
Into the sea, which made his Funerall:
And bleeding in it from each mangled lim,
He quenched it, and it extinguish't him.
See a poore wretch with both armes cut asunder,
Distracted leapt into the water vnder
Meaning to swim, but see the wofull wretch
With how much toile he laboureth to stretch
His raw-veind stumps, which for his armes before
Gush nothing now, but streames of deadly gore:
Faine would he catch t'vphold his wavering life
Some kind remaine o'th ship, but all his strife
Doth make him sooner to be out of breath,
And wanting armes he yet embraces death.
One getteth this, by hauing lost his eies,
In that he cannot see his miseries,
Anothers legges are gone, that who him sees
Might thinke he did begge pardon on his knees.
What refuge now is left? when if they shun
Th'approaching sword, into the fire they run:
Shunning the fire, they into waterfall,
So no way wants a certaine Funerall.
Thus after strange vnheard of sort they lie,
And death, by many deaths, makes one man die.
The mangled ships no longer can withstand
Th'intruding sea, and Mars his fiery brand;
But sinking downward one might then haue thought
Them gone t' helpe Charon to waft ore his fraught.
The conquer'd fleet prickt now with desperate stings
Of horror, wish their army did of wings
Onely consist; but now as if it stood
Tyed with fast anchors to the stubborne flood
Mooues not away, but void of all instruction,
Venter their owne, to hasten the destruction
Of their once Maisters, who into corners creepe,
As among Wolues, a flocke of trembling sheepe.
Much like a silly Doue, whose broken wing
Hath tried the Talons of the aiery King,
And lieth panting on the bloody ground
Striving to flie from's enemies rebound.
Alas poore bird, it wants that winged oare
Which should it's wonted scape to it restore:
And so at length with silent patience crouching,
It's made a prey to the fierce bird encroching.
Thus fleet and bird lie i'th same wofull plight,
Whose onely wish is to be put to flight.
The Sunne no longer could endure to see
'Mongst humane men such inhumanity:
Therefore his Horses, bathing in their fome,
With posting speed hast to their watrie home.
Where yet a while they all amazed flood,
Finding in stead of Sea, a Sea of Blood.
FINIS.