Have you not seen, when whistled from the fist,
Some falcon stoops at what her eye design'd,
And with her eagerness the quarry miss'd,
Straight flies at check, and clips it down the wind?
The dastard crow, that to the wood made wing,
And sees the groves no shelter can afford,
With her loud kaws her craven kind does bring,
Who, safe in numbers, cuff the noble bird.
Among the Dutch thus Albemarle did fare:
He could not conquer, and disdain'd to fly ;
Past hope of safety, 'twas his latest care,
Like falling Cæsar, decently to die.
Yet pity did his manly spirit move,
To see those perish who so well had fought;
And, gen'rously, with his despair he strove,
Resolv'd to live till he their safety wrought.
Let other Muses write his prosp'rous fate,
Of conquer'd nations tell, aud kings restor❜d;
But mine shall sing of his eclips'd estate,
Which, like the sun's more wonders does afford. 360
He drew his mighty frigates all before,
On which the foe his fruitless force employs;
His weak ones deep into his rear he bore,
Remote from guns, as sick men from the noise.
His fiery cannon did their passage guide,
And following smoke obscur'd them from the foe:
Thus Israel safe from the Egyptians' pride,
By flaming pillars, and by clouds, did go.
Elsewhere the Belgian force we did defeat,
But here our courages did theirs subdue:
So Xenophon once led that fam'd retreat,
Which first the Asian empire overthrew.
The foe approach'd; and one, for his bold sin,
Was sunk; as he that touch'd the ark was slain:
The wild waves master'd him, and suck'd him in,
Aud smiling eddies dimpled on the main.
This seen, the rest at awful distance stood,
As if they had been there as servants set,
To stay, or to go on, as he thought good,
And not pursue, but wait on his retreat.
So Libyan huntsmen, on some sandy plain,
From shady coverts rous'd, the lion chase;
The kingly beast roars out with loud disdain,
And slowly moves, † unknowing to give place.
+ The simile is Virgil's; "Vestigia retro improperata refert," &c.
But if some one approach to dare his force,
He swings his tail, and swiftly turns him round;
With one paw seizes on his trembling horse,
And with the other tears him to the ground.
Amidst these toils succeeds the balmy night;
Now hissing waters the quench'd guns restore,
And weary waves, † withdrawing from the sight,
Lie lull'd and panting on the silent shore.
The moon shone clear on the becalmed flood,
Where, while her beams like glitt'ring silver play,
Upon the deck our careful gen'ral stood,
And deeply mus'd on the succeeding day.
"That happy sun," said he, "will rise again,
"Who twice victorious did our navies see;
"And I alone must view him rise in vain,
"Without one ray of all his star for me.
"Yet like an English gen'ral 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."
Weary waves.] From Statius Sylv.
Nec trucibus fluviis idem sonus; occidit horror
Equoris, antennis maria acclinata quiescunt."
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.
Thus far had Fortune pow'r, he forc'd 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.
For now brave Rupert from afar appears,
Whose waving streamers the glad gen❜ral knows:
With full spread sails his eager navy steers,
And ev'ry ship in full proportion grows.
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.
Then as an eagle, who, with pious care,
Was beating widely on the wing for prey,
To her now silent eiry does repair,
And finds her callow infants forc'd away:
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.
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, ev'ry little noise can wound.
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.
With such glad hearts did our despairing men
Salute th' appearance of the Prince's fleet;
And each ambitiously would claim the ken
That with first eyes did distant safety meet.
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.
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