AN ESSAYE Upon his Royal Highness the Duke of YORK His Adventure against the DUTCH.
SInce the proud Dutch will yet again provoke
Heaven and the Duke to give the second stroke,
May he strike deep, and let the angry Fates
Make the Hogen Mogen, Poor distressed States.
Why may'nt good Prayers do as much as charms,
And make the Duke secure from shot and harms?
If Pray'rs repeated backwards have such might,
Sure they have greater when repeated right.
May th'English Sea (like that fam'd steed would take
No other but his Master on his back)
Stoop to receive Great James, but praunc'd and throw
The Dutch, and trample o're th'usurping Foe,
May't smile and frown at once, and ev'ry wave
To him a Bull-wark be to's Foes a Grave.
There let'um with their bodies satisfie
Neptune for th' Earth they stole out of the Sea.
Tis fit some Colonies should be sent down,
To people once again their drowned Town:
VVhose Steeples at low-tide peep out o'th Sea,
Shewing what's become of all their Piety.
May the kind Winds which from the Brittish Shore
Come whistling, on his head soft blessings pour.
And when he fights like Vassals let them run,
VVith their swift feet to aid the tardy Gun.
But to the Duth may their infections breath
Not only Storms and Tempests bring but Death.
Let 'um with oblique blasts their Bullets spoil,
Or make 'um on their Masters heads recoil.
And if the sacrilegious Lead comes near
Great James, let it straight melt into a Tear:
And fall at's feet, o're come by's powerful rayes
VVhilst no bold Thunder hurt's his conquering Bays.
VVhen e're his bellowing Guns shall roar for prey,
Impatient even of the short delay,
Of these swift Messengers, they just now sent,
VVhirling through the amazed Element:
May the sure Bullets, they (like Spiders) spun
From their own bowels, prove destruction.
And never from their bellies let 'um go
But into those of the capacious Foe.
Then may the Guns, as though they'd Victory got,
VVith a great shout applaud the lucky shot.
May the great cloud of Smoak be, while they fight,
To our men Day, to those Egiptians Night.
And when our Ships laden with Fire and Death,
Directed by some VVind's auspicious breath.
Shall catch their perjur'd Hulks, may they enlarge
VVhatever is committed to their charge.
Chains, Bullets, Fire, and whatsoever else kills.
As though they were Pandora's box of Ills.
Let those ambitious Semeles of theirs
Dye i' th' embraces of our Thunderers.
Let ne're a drunken Bacchus of them fly,
For safety to the shelter of Jove's thigh.
May our great Admiral still Victorious prove,
Assisted by the Almighty Power above.
Let wild-Fire from his Guns so swiftly fly,
As if h'ad borrow'd lightning from the Sky.
And if from theirs any attaque his Ship,
Let it like lambent Meteors harmless skip,
And on his Sails a lucky Castor be,
A certain token of Prosperity.
Whilst o're the Dutch-men to inhaunce their fears,
Nothing but Hellen's boading Torch appears.
And when great York from Sea return's again,
May Squadrons of Dutch-Ships augment his train.
Let Captive Holland into England come,
And Conquering England into Holland roam.
FINIS.
Printed for W. Gilbert at the Half Moon in St. Pauls Church-yard, 1672.