Behold two nations then, engag'd so far,

That each seven years the fit must shake each land: Where France will side to weaken us by war,

Who only can his vast designs withstand.

See how he feeds th' Iberian with delays,
To render us his timely friendship vain :
And while his secret soul on Flanders preys,
He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain.

Such deep designs of empire does he lay

O'er them, whose cause he seems to take in hand; And prudently would make them lords at sea,

To whom with ease he can give laws by land.

This saw our king; and long within his breast
His pensive counsels balanc'd to and fro :
He griev'd the land he freed should be oppress'd,
And he less for it than usurpers do.

His generous mind the fair ideas drew

of fame and honour, which in dangers lay; Where wealth, like fruit on precipices, grew, Not to be gather'd but by birds of prey.

The loss and gain each fatally were great;
And still his subjects call'd aloud for war:
But peaceful kings, o'er martial people set,
Each other's poize and counterbalance are.

He first survey'd the charge with careful eyes,
Which none but mighty monarchs could maintain;
Yet judg'd, like vapours that from limbecs rise,
It would in richer showers descend again.

At length resolv'd t' assert the watery ball,

He in himself did whole armadoes bring:
Him aged seamen might their master call,
And choose for general, were he not their king.

It seems as every ship their sovereign knows,
His awful summons they so soon obey;
So hear the scaly herd when Proteus blows,
And so to pasture follow through the sea.

To see this fleet upon the ocean move,

Angels drew wide the curtains of the skies; And Heaven, as if there wanted lights above, For tapers made two glaring comets rise.

Whether they unctuous exhalations are,

Fir'd by the Sun, or seeming so alone;
Or each some more remote and slippery star,
Which loses footing when to mortals shown:

Or one, that bright companion of the Sun,
Whose glorious aspect seal'd our new-born king;
And now, a round of greater years begun,

New influence from his walks of light did bring. Victorious York did first with fam'd success,

To his known valour make the Dutch give place: Thus Heaven our monarch's fortune did confess, Beginning conquest from his royal race.

But since it was decreed, auspicious king,

In Britain's right that thou shouldst wed the main, Heaven, as a gage, would cast some precious thing, And therefore doom'd that Lawson should be slain.

Lawson amongst the foremost inet his fate,
Whom sea-green Sirens from the rocks lament:
Thus as an offering for the Grecian state,

He first was kill'd who first to battle went.

Their chief blown up in air, not waves, expir'd, To which his pride presum'd to give the law: The Dutch confess'd Heaven present, and retir'd, And all was Britain the wide ocean saw.

To nearest ports their shatter'd ships repair,
Where by our dreadful cannon they lay aw'd:
So reverently men quit the open air,

When thunder speaks the angry gods abroad.

And now approach'd their fleet from India fraught, With all the riches of the rising Sun :

And precious sand from southern climates brought,
The fatal regions where the war begun.

Like hunted castors, conscious of their store, [bring:
Their way-laid wealth to Norway's coasts they
There first the North's cold bosom spices bore,
And Winter brooded on the eastern Spring.

By the rich scent we found our perfum'd prey,
Which, flank'd with rocks, did close in covert lie:
And round about their murdering cannon lay,
At once to threaten and invite the eye.

Fiercer than cannon, and than rocks more hard,
The English undertake th' unequal war :
Seven ships alone, by which the port is barr'd,

Besiege the Indies, and all Denmark dare.

These fight like husbands, but like lovers those :
These fain would keep, and those more fain enjoy:
And to such height their frantic passion grows,
That what both love, both hazard to destroy.

Amidst whole heaps of spices lights a ball,
And now their odours arm'd against them fly :
Some preciously by shatter'd porcelain fall,
And some by aromatic splinters die.

And though by tempests of the prize bereft,
In Heaven's inclemency some ease we find :
Our foes we vanquish'd by our valour left,
And only yielded to the seas and wind.

Nor wholly lost we so deserv'd a prey;
For storms, repenting, part of it restor❜d:
Which, as a tribute from the Baltic sea,

The British ocean sent her mighty lord.

Go, mortals, now and vex yourselves in vain

For wealth, which so uncertainly must come : When what was brought so far, and with such pain, Was only kept to lose it nearer home.

The son, who twice three months on th' ocean tost,
Prepar'd to tell what he had pass'd before,

Now sees in English ships the Holland coast,
And parents' arms, in vain, stretch'd from the shore.

This careful husband had been long away,

Whom his chaste wife and little children mourn : Who on their fingers learn'd to tell the day On which their father promis'd to return.

Such are the proud designs of human-kind,
And so we suffer shipwreck every where!
Alas, what port can such a pilot find,

Who in the night of Fate must blindly steer!

The undistinguish'd seeds of good and ill,

Heaven in his bosom from our knowledge hides: And draws them in contempt of human skill, Which oft for friends mistaken foes provides.

Let Munster's prelate ever be accurst,

In whom we seek the German faith in vain : Alas, that he should teach the English first, That fraud and avarice in the church could reign!

Happy, who never trust a stranger's will,

Whose friendship's in his interest understood! Since money given but tempts him to be ill, When power is too remote to make him good.

Till now, alone the mighty nations strove;

The rest, at gaze, without the lists did stand; And threatening France, plac'd like a painted Jove, Kept idle thunder in his lifted hand.

That eunuch guardian of rich Holland's trade,
Who envies us what he wants power t' enjoy;
Whose noiseful valour does no foe invade,
And weak assistance will his friends destroy.

Offended that we fought without his leave,

He takes this time his secret hate to show: Which Charles does with a mind so calm receive, As one that neither seeks nor shuns his foe.