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CXCV.

Behold that navy which, a while before,
Provok'd the tardy English close to fight,
Now draw their beaten vessels close to shore,
As larks lie dar'd to shun the hobbies' flight.

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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.

CXCVII.

Or if too busily they will enquire
Into a victory which we disdain,

Then let them know the Belgians did retire
Before the patron saint of injur'd Spain.

CXCVIII.

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

CXCIX.

Our fathers bent their baneful industry
To check a monarchy that slowly grew;
But did not France or Holland's fate foresee,
Whose rising pow'r to swift dominion flew.

CC.

In Fortune's empire blindly thus we go,
And wander after pathless Destiny;

Dryden.]

Hij

780

790

Whose dark resorts since Prudence cannot know,

In vain it would provide for what shall be.

CCI.

But whate'er English to the bless'd shall go,
And the fourth Harry or first Orange meet,
Find him disowning of a Bourbon foe,
And him detesting a Batavian fleet.

CCII.

Now on their coasts our conqu❜ring navy rides,
Way-lays their merchants, and their land besets;
Each day new wealth without their care provides;
They lie asleep with prizes in their nets.

CCIII.

So close bebind some promontory lie
The huge leviathans t' attend their prey,
And give no chase, but swallow in the fry,
Which thro' their gaping jaws mistake the way.

CCIV.

Nor was this all; in ports and roads remote
Destructive fires among whole fleets we send;
Triumphant flames upon the waters float,
And out-bound ships at home their voyage end.

CCV.

Those various squadrons variously design'd,
Each vessel freighted with a sev'ral load,
Each squadron waiting for a sev'ral wind,
All find but one to burn them in the road.

800.

810

820

CCVI.

Some bound for Guinea, golden sand to find,
Bore all the gauds the simple natives wear;
Some for the pride of Turkish courts design'd,
For folded turbans finest holland bear.

CCVII.

Some English wool, vex'd in a Belgian loom,
And into cloth of spungy softness made,
Did into France or colder Denmark doom,
To ruin with worse ware our staple trade.

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Our greedy seamen rummage ev'ry hold,
Smile on the booty of each wealthier chest;

And as the priests, who with their gods make bold,
Take what they like, and sacrifice the rest.

CCIX.

But, ah! how unsincere are all our joys!

830

Which, sent from Heav'n, like lightning make no stay;
Their palling taste the journey's length destroys,
Or Grief, sent post, o'ertakes them on the way.

CCX.

Swell'd with our late successes on the foe,

Which France and Holland wanted pow'r to cross,

We urge an unseen fate to lay us low,
And feed their envious eyes with English loss.

CCXI.

Each element his dread command obeys,

Who makes or ruins with a smile or frown;

840

Who, as by one he did our nation raise

So now he with another pulls us down.

CCXII.

Yet, London, Empress of the Northern clime,
By an high fate thou greatly didst expire;
Great as the world's which at the death of Time, t
Must fall, and rise a nobler frame by fire.

CCXIII.

As when some dire usurper Heav'n provides
To scourge his country with a lawless sway,
His birth perhaps some petty village hides,
And sets his cradle out of Fortune's way:

CCXIV.

Till fully ripe, his swelling fate breaks out,
And hurries bim to mighty mischiefs on:

His prince, surpris'd at first, no ill could doubt,
And wants the pow'r to meet it when 'tis known.

CCXV.

Such was the rise of this prodigious fire,
Which in mean buildings first obscurely bred,
From thence did soon to open streets aspire,
And straight to palaces and temples spread.

CCXVI.

The diligence of Trade, and noiseful Gain,
And Luxury, more late, asleep were laid:
All was the Night's, and, in her silent reign,
No sound the rest of Nature did invade.

+ Quum mare, quum tellus, correptaque regia coeli
'Ardeat,' &c.

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OVID.

860

CCXVII.

In this deep quiet, from what source unknown,
Those seeds of fire their fatal birth disclose;

And, first, few scatt'ring sparks about were blown,
Big with the flames that to our ruin rose.

CCXVIII.

Then in some close-pent room it crept along,
And, mould'ring as it went, in silence fed;
Till th' infant monster, with devouring strong,
Walk'd boldly upright with exalted head.

CCXIX.

Now, like some rich or mighty murderer,
Too great for prison, which he breaks with gold;
Who fresher for new mischiefs does appear,
And dares the world to tax him with the old :

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So 'scapes th' insulting fire his narrow jail,
And makes small outlets into open air;
There the fierce winds his tender force assail,
And beat him downward to his first repair.

CCXXI.

870

The winds, like crafty courtezans, † withheld
His flames from burning, but to blow them more;
And ev'ry fresh attempt he is repell'd

With faint denials, weaker than before.

880

Like crafty, &c.] Haec arte, tractabat cupidum virum, ut illius ⚫ animum inopia accenderet,

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