A Lamentable Narration of the sad Disaster of a great part of the Spanish Plate-Fleet that perished neare St. Lucas, where the MarÂquiss, his Lady, and Children, and many hundreth of Spanyards were Burnt and sunke in the bottome of the Sea, by the Valour and Prowess of the two brave Generals Mountague and Blake in the yeare, 1657. being their first Victory obtained against the Spanyard in that Voyage.
NOw for some Ages had the Pride of Spaine,
Made the Sunne shine on halfe the world in vaine.
Whilest he bad Warre to all that durst supply
The place of those her Cruelties made Die.
Of Natures bounty men forbore to taste,
And the best portion of the world lay waste;
From the new world her Silver and her Gold
Came like a tempest to confound the old.
Feeding with these the brib'd Electors hopes.
Shee made at pleasure Emperours and Popes.
With these advancing her unjust designes,
Europe was shaken with her Golden Mines.
When our PROTECTOR looking with disdaine
Upon this gilded Majesty of Spaine,
And knowing well that Empires must decline.
Whose chiefe support and Sinewes are of Coine,
Our Nations solid vertue did oppose,
To the rich Troublers of the worlds repose.
And now some Moneths encamping on the Maine,
Our Navall army had besieged Spaine.
They who the whole worlds Monarchy design'd,
Are to their Ports by our bold Fleet confin'd.
From whence our Red Crosse they Triumphall see,
Riding without a Rivall on the Sea,
Others may use the Ocean as their Road,
Onely the English make it their abode;
Whose ready Sailes with every wind comply,
And make a Covenant with the unconstant Skie.
Our Oakes secure as if they there tooke root,
We tread on Billowes with a steddy foot.
Meane while the Spanyard in America,
Neare to the Line the Sun approaching sail,
And hoped the Europian coast to find;
Clear'd from our Ships by the Autumnall wind.
Their Huge Caparious Gallions stuff'd with Plate,
The labouring winds drives slowly towards their Fate.
Before St. Lucars they their Gunnes discharge
To tell their Ioy, or to call forth a Barge.
This heard some Ships of ours, though out of View
And swift as Eagles to the Quarry flew.
So heedless Lambes which for their Mothers bleat,
Wake hungry Lyons, and become their meat.
Arrived they soone begin that Tragick Play,
And with their smoakie Cannons banish Day;
Night, horror, Slaughter, with Confusion meets,
And with their Sable Armes Embrace the Fleets.
Through yeelding Plancks the angry Bullets flye,
And of one Wound hundreths together Dye.
Born under different Starres, one Fate they have,
The Ship their Coffin, and the Sea their Grave.
Bold were the Men who on the Deck on first,
Spred their new Sailes when Shipwrack was the worst
More dangers now from Men alone we find,
Then from the Rockes the Billowes or the Wind?
They who had sayled from nere the Antarticke Pole
Their Treasure safe, and all their Vessels whole.
In sight of their deare Countrey Ruin'd bee,
Without the Guilt of either Rocke or Sea.
Some were made Prize whilest other, burnt and sent,
With their Rich Lading to the Bottome went.
Downe sinkes at once (so Fortune with us sports)
The Pay of Armies and the Pride of Courts.
Vaine Man whose Rage buries as Low that store
As Avarice, had dig'd for it before;
What earth in her darke Bowels could not keepe,
From Greedy hands lyes safer in the deepe.
There Thetis kindly does from Mortals hide,
Those seeds of Luxury, Debate, and Pride.
And now into her Lap the Richest Prize
Fell with the Noblest of our Enemies.
The Marquess glad to see the Fire destroy,
Wealth that prevailing Foes were like to enjoy;
Out from his Flaming Ship his Children sent
To perish in a milder Element.
Then layd him by his burning Ladyes side;
And since hee could not save her, with her Dy'd.
Death bitter is for what wee leave behind,
But taking with us all wee have is kind:
What could he more then hold for terme of Life,
His Indian Treasure, and more precious Wife
Alive in Flames of equall Love they burn'd;
And now together are to Ashes turn'd.
Ashes more worth then all their Funerall cost,
Then the huge Treasure that was with them lost;
Spices and Gummes about them melting fry,
And Phenix like in their rich Nest they dye.
Faire Venus weep'd her tender hands shee wrung,
That Love should perish whence her selfe was sprung,
Her Son endeavouring her life to save,
Drencht all his feathered arrowes in the wave.
Since when, so slow and so unsure they move,
That never more wee may expect such love.
But now returnes victorious MONTAGVE
With Lawrell in his hand and halfe Peru,
Let the brave Generals devide the Bough,
Our great PROTECTOR hath such wreaths enough
His conquering head hath no more roome for Bayes,
Then let it bee as the whole Nation prayes;
Let the rich Oare bee forthwith melted downe,
And the State fix'd by making him a Crowne;
With Ermyns clad and Purple, let him hold
A Royall Scepter made of Spanish Gold.
FINIS.
LONDON, Printed by T. F. for N. B.