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DUKE OF YORK'S VICTORY 59
So high a victory we could not command, Had it not been gain'd by an Almighty hand, The great Lord of Battels did perfect this work, For God and the King, and the good Duke of York;
Whose courage was such,
Against the Low-Dutch, That vapour'd and swagger'd, like Lords in a hutch ; But, let the bold Hollander burn, sink, or swim, They have honour enough to be beaten by him.
Fire, aire, earth, and water, it seems were imploy'd, To strive for the conquest which we have injoy'd, No honour, or profit, or safety can spring, To those that do fight against God and the King ;
The battel was hot,
And bloudily fought, The fire was like rain, and like hail was the shot, For in this ingagement ten thousand did bleed Of Flemmings, who now are the Low-Dutch indeed.
In this cruel conflict stout Opdam was slain, By the great Duke of York, and lies sunk in the main, 'Twas from the Duke's frigat that he had his doome, And by the Duke's valour he was overcome;
It was his good fate,
To fall at that rate, Who sink under Princes, are buried in state. Since valour and courage in one grave must lye, It is a great honour by great hands to dye.
That gallant bold fellow, the son of Van Trump, Whose brains were beat out by the head of the Rump, Ingaging with Holmes, a brave captain of ours, Retreated to Neptune's salt, waterie bowers :
His fate was grown grim,
He no longer could swim, But he that caught fishes, now fishes catch him, They eat up our fish, without reason or lawes, But now they are going to pay for the sauce.
To mock at men's miserie is not my aime, It never can add to an Englishman's fame, But I may rejoyce that the battel is wonn, 'Because in the victory God's will is done ; |
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