Poetical Works of John Dryden, Volume 1 — Annus Mirabilis Stanzas 102-201

101 Yet like an English general will I die, And all the ocean make my spacious grave: Women and cowards on the land may lie;

The sea's a tomb that's proper for the brave.

102 Restless he pass'd the remnant of the night, Till the fresh air proclaimed the morning nigh: And burning ships, the martyrs of the fight, With paler fires beheld the eastern sky.

103 But now, his stores of ammunition spent, His naked valour is his only guard;

Rare thunders are from his dumb cannon sent, And solitary guns are scarcely heard.

104 Thus far had fortune power, here forced to stay, Nor longer durst with virtue be at strife: This as a ransom Albemarle did pay, For all the glories of so great a life.

105 For now brave Rupert from afar appears, Whose waving streamers the glad general knows: With full spread sails his eager navy steers, And every ship in swift proportion grows.

106 The anxious prince had heard the cannon long, And from that length of time dire omens drew Of English overmatch'd, and Dutch too strong, Who never fought three days, but to pursue.

107 Then, as an eagle, who, with pious care Was beating widely on the wing for prey, To her now silent eyrie does repair, And finds her callow infants forced away: 108 Stung with her love, she stoops upon the plain, The broken air loud whistling as she flies: She stops and listens, and shoots forth again, And guides her pinions by her young ones' cries.

109 With such kind passion hastes the prince to fight, And spreads his flying canvas to the sound;

Him, whom no danger, were he there, could fright, Now absent every little noise can wound.

110 As in a drought the thirsty creatures cry, And gape upon the gather'd clouds for rain, And first the martlet meets it in the sky, And with wet wings joys all the feather'd train.

111 With such glad hearts did our despairing men Salute the appearance of the prince's fleet;

And each ambitiously would claim the ken, That with first eyes did distant safety meet.

112 The Dutch, who came like greedy hinds before, To reap the harvest their ripe ears did yield, Now look like those, when rolling thunders roar, And sheets of lightning blast the standing field.

113 Full in the prince's passage, hills of sand, And dangerous flats in secret ambush lay;

Where the false tides skim o'er the cover'd land, And seamen with dissembled depths betray.

114 The wily Dutch, who, like fallen angels, fear'd This new Messiah's coming, there did wait, And round the verge their braving vessels steer'd, To tempt his courage with so fair a bait.

115 But he, unmoved, contemns their idle threat, Secure of fame whene'er he please to fight: His cold experience tempers all his heat, And inbred worth doth boasting valour slight.

116 Heroic virtue did his actions guide, And he the substance, not the appearance chose To rescue one such friend he took more pride, Than to destroy whole thousands of such foes.

117 But when approach'd, in strict embraces bound, Rupert and Albemarle together grow;

He joys to have his friend in safety found, Which he to none but to that friend would owe.

118 The cheerful soldiers, with new stores supplied, Now long to execute their spleenful will;

And, in revenge for those three days they tried, Wish one, like Joshua's, when the sun stood still.

119 Thus reinforced, against the adverse fleet, Still doubling ours, brave Rupert leads the way: With the first blushes of the morn they meet, And bring night back upon the new-born day.

120 His presence soon blows up the kindling fight, And his loud guns speak thick like angry men: It seem'd as slaughter had been breathed all night, And Death new pointed his dull dart again.

121 The Dutch too well his mighty conduct knew, And matchless courage since the former fight;

Whose navy like a stiff-stretch'd cord did show, Till he bore in and bent them into flight.

122 The wind he shares, while half their fleet offends His open side, and high above him shows: Upon the rest at pleasure he descends, And doubly harm'd he double harms bestows.

123 Behind the general mends his weary pace, And sullenly to his revenge he sails: So glides some trodden serpent on the grass, And long behind his wounded volume trails.

124 The increasing sound is borne to either shore, And for their stakes the throwing nations fear: Their passions double with the cannons' roar, And with warm wishes each man combats there.

125 Plied thick and close as when the fight begun, Their huge unwieldy navy wastes away;

So sicken waning moons too near the sun, And blunt their crescents on the edge of day.

126 And now reduced on equal terms to fight, Their ships like wasted patrimonies show;

Where the thin scattering trees admit the light, And shun each other's shadows as they grow.

127 The warlike prince had sever'd from the rest Two giant ships, the pride of all the main;

Which with his one so vigorously he prest, And flew so home they could not rise again.

128 Already batter'd, by his lee they lay, In rain upon the passing winds they call: The passing winds through their torn canvas play, And flagging sails on heartless sailors fall.

129 Their open'd sides receive a gloomy light, Dreadful as day let into shades below: Without, grim Death rides barefaced in their sight, And urges entering billows as they flow.

130 When one dire shot, the last they could supply, Close by the board the prince's mainmast bore: All three now helpless by each other lie, And this offends not, and those fear no more.

131 So have I seen some fearful hare maintain A course, till tired before the dog she lay: Who, stretch'd behind her, pants upon the plain, Past power to kill, as she to get away.

132 With his loll'd tongue he faintly licks his prey;

His warm breath blows her flix[44] up as she lies;

She trembling creeps upon the ground away, And looks back to him with beseeching eyes.

133 The prince unjustly does his stars accuse, Which hinder'd him to push his fortune on;

For what they to his courage did refuse, By mortal valour never must be done.

134 This lucky hour the wise Batavian takes, And warns his tatter'd fleet to follow home;

Proud to have so got off with equal stakes, Where 'twas a triumph not to be o'ercome.

135 The general's force, as kept alive by fight, Now not opposed, no longer can pursue: Lasting till heaven had done his courage right;

When he had conquer'd he his weakness knew.

136 He casts a frown on the departing foe, And sighs to see him quit the watery field: His stern fix'd eyes no satisfaction show, For all the glories which the fight did yield.

137 Though, as when fiends did miracles avow, He stands confess'd e'en by the boastful Dutch: He only does his conquest disavow, And thinks too little what they found too much.

138 Return'd, he with the fleet resolved to stay;

No tender thoughts of home his heart divide;

Domestic joys and cares he puts away;

For realms are households which the great must guide.

139 As those who unripe veins in mines explore, On the rich bed again the warm turf lay, Till time digests the yet imperfect ore, And know it will be gold another day: 140 So looks our monarch on this early fight, Th' essay and rudiments of great success;

Which all-maturing time must bring to light, While he, like Heaven, does each day's labour bless.

141 Heaven ended not the first or second day, Yet each was perfect to the work design'd;

God and king's work, when they their work survey, A passive aptness in all subjects find.

142 In burden'd vessels first, with speedy care, His plenteous stores do seasoned timber send;

Thither the brawny carpenters repair, And as the surgeons of maim'd ships attend.

143 With cord and canvas from rich Hamburgh sent, His navy's molted wings he imps once more: Tall Norway fir, their masts in battle spent, And English oak, sprung leaks and planks restore.

144 All hands employ'd, the royal work grows warm: Like labouring bees on a long summer's day, Some sound the trumpet for the rest to swarm.

And some on bells of tasted lilies play.

145 With gluey wax some new foundations lay Of virgin-combs, which from the roof are hung: Some arm'd, within doors upon duty stay, Or tend the sick, or educate the young.

146 So here some pick out bullets from the sides, Some drive old oakum through each seam and rift: Their left hand does the calking-iron guide, The rattling mallet with the right they lift.

147 With boiling pitch another near at hand, From friendly Sweden brought, the seams instops: Which well paid o'er, the salt sea waves withstand, And shakes them from the rising beak in drops.

148 Some the gall'd ropes with dauby marline bind, Or sear-cloth masts with strong tarpaulin coats: To try new shrouds one mounts into the wind, And one below their ease or stiffness notes.

149 Our careful monarch stands in person by, His new-cast cannons' firmness to explore: The strength of big-corn'd powder loves to try, And ball and cartridge sorts for every bore.

150 Each day brings fresh supplies of arms and men, And ships which all last winter were abroad;

And such as fitted since the fight had been, Or, new from stocks, were fallen into the road.

151 The goodly London in her gallant trim (The Phoenix daughter of the vanish'd old).

Like a rich bride does to the ocean swim, And on her shadow rides in floating gold.

152 Her flag aloft spread ruffling to the wind, And sanguine streamers seem the flood to fire;

The weaver, charm'd with what his loom design'd, Goes on to sea, and knows not to retire.

153 With roomy decks, her guns of mighty strength, Whose low-laid mouths each mounting billow laves;

Deep in her draught, and warlike in her length, She seems a sea-wasp flying on the waves.

154 This martial present, piously design'd, The loyal city give their best-loved King: And with a bounty ample as the wind, Built, fitted, and maintain'd, to aid him bring.

155 By viewing Nature, Nature's handmaid, Art, Makes mighty things from small beginnings grow: Thus fishes first to shipping did impart, Their tail the rudder, and their head the prow.

156 Some log perhaps upon the waters swam, An useless drift, which, rudely cut within, And, hollow'd, first a floating trough became, And cross some rivulet passage did begin.

157 In shipping such as this, the Irish kern, And untaught Indian, on the stream did glide: Ere sharp-keel'd boats to stem the flood did learn, Or fin-like oars did spread from either side.

158 Add but a sail, and Saturn so appear'd, When from lost empire he to exile went, And with the golden age to Tiber steer'd, Where coin and commerce first he did invent.

159 Rude as their ships was navigation then;

No useful compass or meridian known;

Coasting, they kept the land within their ken, And knew no North but when the Pole-star shone.

160 Of all who since have used the open sea, Than the bold English none more fame have won: Beyond the year, and out of heaven's high way, They make discoveries where they see no sun.

161 But what so long in vain, and yet unknown, By poor mankind's benighted wit is sought, Shall in this age to Britain first be shown, And hence be to admiring nations taught.

162 The ebbs of tides and their mysterious flow, We, as art's elements, shall understand, And as by line upon the ocean go, Whose paths shall be familiar as the land.

163 Instructed ships shall sail to quick commerce, By which remotest regions are allied;

Which makes one city of the universe, Where some may gain, and all may be supplied.

164 Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go, And view the ocean leaning on the sky: From thence our rolling neighbours we shall know, And on the lunar world securely pry.

165 This I foretell from your auspicious care, Who great in search of God and nature grow;

Who best your wise Creator's praise declare, Since best to praise his works is best to know.

166 O truly royal!

who behold the law And rule of beings in your Maker's mind: And thence, like limbecks, rich ideas draw, To fit the levell'd use of human-kind.

197 But first the toils of war we must endure, And from the injurious Dutch redeem the seas.

War makes the valiant of his right secure, And gives up fraud to be chastised with ease.

168 Already were the Belgians on our coast, Whose fleet more mighty every day became By late success, which they did falsely boast, And now by first appearing seem'd to claim.

169 Designing, subtle, diligent, and close, They knew to manage war with wise delay: Yet all those arts their vanity did cross, And by their pride their prudence did betray.

170 Nor stay'd the English long; but, well supplied, Appear as numerous as the insulting foe: The combat now by courage must be tried, And the success the braver nation show.

171 There was the Plymouth squadron now come in, Which in the Straits last winter was abroad;

Which twice on Biscay's working bay had been, And on the midland sea the French had awed.

172 Old expert Allen,[45] loyal all along, Famed for his action on the Smyrna fleet: And Holmes, whose name shall live in epic song, While music numbers, or while verse has feet.

173 Holmes, the Achates of the general's fight;

Who first bewitch'd our eyes with Guinea gold;

As once old Cato in the Roman sight The tempting fruits of Afric did unfold.

174 With him went Spragge, as bountiful as brave, Whom his high courage to command had brought: Harman, who did the twice-fired Harry save, And in his burning ship undaunted fought.

175 Young Hollis, on a Muse by Mars begot, Born, Cæsar-like, to write and act great deeds: Impatient to revenge his fatal shot, His right hand doubly to his left succeeds.

176 Thousands were there in darker fame that dwell, Whose deeds some nobler poem shall adorn: And, though to me unknown, they sure fought well Whom Rupert led, and who were British born.

177 Of every size an hundred fighting sail: So vast the navy now at anchor rides, That underneath it the press'd waters fail, And with its weight it shoulders off the tides.

178 Now anchors weigh'd, the seamen shout so shrill, That heaven and earth and the wide ocean rings: A breeze from westward waits their sails to fill, And rests in those high beds his downy wings.

179 The wary Dutch this gathering storm foresaw, And durst not bide it on the English coast: Behind their treacherous shallows they withdraw, And there lay snares to catch the British host.

180 So the false spider, when her nets are spread, Deep ambush'd in her silent den does lie: And feels far off the trembling of her thread, Whose filmy cord should bind the struggling fly.

181 Then if at last she find him fast beset, She issues forth and runs along her loom: She joys to touch the captive in her net, And drags the little wretch in triumph home.

182 The Belgians hoped, that, with disorder'd haste, Our deep-cut keels upon the sands might run: Or, if with caution leisurely were past, Their numerous gross might charge us one by one.

183 But with a fore-wind pushing them above, And swelling tide that heaved them from below, O'er the blind flats our warlike squadrons move, And with spread sails to welcome battle go.

184 It seem'd as there the British Neptune stood, With all his hosts of waters at command.

Beneath them to submit the officious flood;

And with his trident shoved them off the sand.

185 To the pale foes they suddenly draw near, And summon them to unexpected fight: They start like murderers when ghosts appear, And draw their curtains in the dead of night.

186 Now van to van the foremost squadrons meet, The midmost battles hastening up behind, Who view far off the storm of falling sleet, And hear their thunder rattling in the wind.

187 At length the adverse admirals appear;

The two bold champions of each country's right: Their eyes describe the lists as they come near, And draw the lines of death before they fight.

188 The distance judged for shot of every size, The linstocks touch, the ponderous ball expires: The vigorous seaman every port-hole plies, And adds his heart to every gun he fires!

189 Fierce was the fight on the proud Belgians' side, For honour, which they seldom sought before!

But now they by their own vain boasts were tied, And forced at least in show to prize it more.

190 But sharp remembrance on the English part, And shame of being match'd by such a foe, Rouse conscious virtue up in every heart, And seeming to be stronger makes them so.

191 Nor long the Belgians could that fleet sustain, Which did two generals' fates, and Cæsar's bear: Each several ship a victory did gain, As Rupert or as Albemarle were there.

192 Their batter'd admiral too soon withdrew, Unthank'd by ours for his unfinish'd fight;

But he the minds of his Dutch masters knew, Who call'd that Providence which we call'd flight.

193 Never did men more joyfully obey, Or sooner understood the sign to fly: With such alacrity they bore away, As if to praise them all the States stood by.

194 O famous leader[46] of the Belgian fleet, Thy monument inscribed such praise shall wear, As Varro, timely flying, once did meet, Because he did not of his Rome despair.

195 Behold that navy, which a while before, Provoked the tardy English close to fight, Now draw their beaten vessels close to shore, As larks lie, dared, to shun the hobby's flight.

196 Whoe'er would English monuments survey, In other records may our courage know: But let them hide the story of this day, Whose fame was blemish'd by too base a foe.

197 Or if too busily they will inquire Into a victory which we disdain;

Then let them know the Belgians did retire Before the patron saint[47] of injured Spain.

198 Repenting England this revengeful day To Philip's manes did an offering bring: England, which first by leading them astray, Hatch'd up rebellion to destroy her King.

199 Our fathers bent their baneful industry, To check a, monarchy that slowly grew;

But did not France or Holland's fate foresee, Whose rising power to swift dominion flew.

200 In fortune's empire blindly thus we go, And wander after pathless destiny;

Whose dark resorts since prudence cannot know, In vain it would provide for what shall be.