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A SONG ON THE DUKE'S LATE GLORIOUS

SUCCESS OVER THE DUTCH.

From a broadside in the possession of Mr. Rimbault. It was evidently written soon after a most obstinate engagement, which took place in Southwold Bay, on the 20th May, 1672, between the combined fleets of England and France on the one side, and that of the Dutch on the other.-E. F. R.

ONE day, as I was sitting still,

Upon the side of Dunwich-hill,
And looking on the ocean,

By chance I saw De Ruyter's fleet
With royal James's squadron meet;

In sooth it was a noble treat
To see that brave commotion.

I cannot stay to name the names

Of all the ships that fought with James,
Their number or their tonnage ;

But this I say, the noble host
Right gallantly did take its post,

And covered all the hollow coast
From Walderswyck to Dunwich.

The French, who should have join'd the Duke,

Full far astern did lag and look, Although their hulls were lighter;

But nobly faced the Duke of York,
Tho' some may wink and some may talk,

Right stoutly did his vessel stalk,
To buffet with De Ruyter.

Well might you hear their guns, I guess,

From Sizewell-gap to Easton Ness,
The show was rare and sightly :

They batter'd without let or stay
Until the evening of that day, -

"Twas then the Dutchmen run away, The Duke had beat them tightly.

Of all the battles gain’d at sea,

This was the rarest victory
Since Philip's grand armado.

I will not name the rebel Blake,
He fought for horson Cromwell's sake,

And yet was forced three days to take,
To quell the Dutch bravado.

So now we've seen them take to flight,

This way, and that, where'er they might,
To windard or to leeward;

Here's to King Charles, and here's to James,
And here's to all the captains' names,

And here's to all the Suffolk dames,
And here's to the house of Stuart.

THE ENGLISHMEN'S VICTORY OVER THE

SPANIARDS.

RELATING HOW FIVE ENGLISH FRIGATES, VIZ. THE HENRY,

RUBY, ANTELOPE, GREYHOUND, AND BRYAN, BURNT ALL THE SPANISH SHIPS IN THEIR HARBOUR, AT MALAGO: BATTERED DOWN THEIR CHURCHES AND THEIR HOUSES ABOUT THEIR EARS, KUL'D ABUNDANCE OF THEIR MEN, AND OBTAINED AN HONOURABLE VICTORY.

Whereever English seamen goes

They are a terror to their foes. To the tune of Five sail of frigats bound for Malago, &c. [From the British Museum Collection of Old Ballads.]

Come all you brave sailors

that sails on the main, I'll tell you of a fight

that was lately in Spain,
And of five sail of frigats

bound to Malago,
For to fight the proud Spaniards,

our orders was so.

There was the Henry and Ruby,

and the Antelope also,
The Grey-hound, and the Bryan,

for fire-ships must go ;
But so bravely we weighed,

and played our parts,
That we made the proud Spaniards

to quake in their hearts.

Then we came to an anchor

so nigh to the mould, Methinks you proud English do

grow very bold: But we came to an anchor

so near to the town, That some of their churches

we soon battered down.

They hung out their flag of truce,

for to know our intent, And they sent out their long-boat,

to know what we meant : But our captain he answered

them bravely, it is so, For to burn all your shipping

before we do go.

For to burn all your shipping

you must us excuse, 'Tis not five sail of frigats

shall make us to muse. But we burnt all their shipping,

and their gallies also, And we left in the city

full many a widow.

Come, then says our captain,

let's fire at the church; And down came their belfrey,

which grieved them much;

F

And down came the steeple,

which standeth so high, Which made the proud Spaniards

to the nunnery flye.

So great a confusion

we made in the town, That their lofty buildings

came tumbling down : Their wives and their children

for help they did cry, But none could relieve them,

though danger was nigh.

The flames and the smoak,

so increased their woe, That they knew not whither

to run nor to go; Some to shun the fire,

leapt into the flood, And there they did perish

in water and mud.

Our guns we kept firing,

still shooting amain, Whilst many a proud Spaniard

was on the place slain : The rest being amazed, for succour did

cry, But all was in vain,

they had no where to flye.

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