A poem being an essay upon the present vvar with the Dutch, since the first battel and victory obtained by His Highness Royal, June 3, 1665, continued to and upon the late happy victory obtained by His Majesties forces at sea, under the conduct of His Highness Prince Rupert, and His Grace the Duke of Albemarle, July 25, 1666 / by John Eames.
Eames, John, 17th cent.
1666
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A poem being an essay upon the present vvar with the Dutch, since the first battel and victory obtained by His Highness Royal, June 3, 1665, continued to and upon the late happy victory obtained by His Majesties forces at sea, under the conduct of His Highness Prince Rupert, and His Grace the Duke of Albemarle, July 25, 1666 / by John Eames.
Eames, John, 17th cent.
[2], 10 p.
Printed for Henry Herringman, and are to be sold at his shop ...,
London :
1666.
In verse.
Reproduction of original in the British Library.
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Anglo-Dutch War, 1664-1667 -- Poetry.
Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Poetry.
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A
POEM
.
BEING
An
Essay
upon
the
present
VVar
with
THE
DUTCH
,
Since
the
first
Battel
and
Victory
obtained
by
His
Highness
Royal
,
June
3.
1665.
Continued
to
and
upon
the
late
Happy
Victory
,
OBTAINED
BY
His
Majesties
Forces
at
Sea
,
under
the
conduct
of
his
Highness
Prince
Rupert
,
and
his
Grace
the
Duke
of
Albemarle
,
July
25.
1666.
By
JOHN
EAMES
.
Haec
in
Primitiis
Tentamina
parva
manebunt
,
Juven
.
LONDON
,
Printed
for
Henry
Herringman
,
and
are
to
be
sold
at
his
Shop
at
the
Sign
of
the
Anchor
on
the
Lower
walk
of
the
New
Exchange
.
1666.
A
POEM
.
Being
an
Assay
upon
the
present
War
with
THE
DUTCH
,
Since
the
first
Battel
and
Victory
obtained
by
HIS
HIGHNESS
ROYAL
June
3.
1665.
SCarce
the
black
Curtains
of
the
Night
were
spred
,
When
drowsie
Poppy
round
my
Temples
shed
A
solemn
sleep
;
from
whose
dark
womb
a
dream
,
The
soul
from
her
close
mansion
did
redeem
:
This
eager
vapour
archt
the
burnisht
Sky
,
From
either
Pole
extended
to
the
eye
;
Thence
the
glad
Sun
had
banish'd
drery
night
,
And
no
dull
shadow
durst
impeach
his
light
.
The
Sea
I
saw
as
calm
as
when
the
Wind
,
Sports
with
the
Spring
,
and
to
soft
Buds
is
kind
;
Whilst
Thetis
rock't
on
wanton
Billows
plays
,
And
mirth
through
shining
troops
of
Nymphs
conveighs
:
Neptune
,
and
all
that
watry
hoast
beside
,
In
triumph
ov'r
that
Azure
Empire
ride
.
This
Pompous
shew
of
wonder
and
delight
,
Ushers
a
winged
Forrest
to
my
sight
;
Whose
Aspect
joyful
characters
betray'd
,
For
a
late
Combate
which
that
tryumph
made
:
It
was
the
Navy
on
the
Ocean
spred
,
Which
from
pursuing
of
the
Dutch
was
led
By
ROYAL
YORK
;
whose
awful
Brows
retain
,
The
growing
Emblems
of
the
conquer'd
Main
.
And
whilst
ambitious
Gales
this
prospect
blew
To
the
glad
Ports
,
my
fetter'd
eyes
pursue
;
Till
shouts
and
thunder
eccho'd
from
the
Shore
,
The
Soul
to
her
first
faculties
restore
.
Awak'd
(
though
not
like
those
whose
sullen
phlegm
Draws
sacred
precepts
from
a
guilty
dream
)
My
Numbers
are
encourag'd
to
relate
The
wandring
homage
of
the
Belgian
State.
How
from
remotest
shores
Attonements
come
,
And
center
in
our
Channel
as
their
home
;
Whilst
fear
instructs
their
anger
to
forsake
The
Straight
,
as
Fowls
abhor
Avernus
Lake
:
How
they
believe
the
Pole
,
and
think
to
find
No
Storm
to
urge
the
murmurs
of
their
mind
.
Trusting
the
North
as
the
securer
way
,
They
court
the
night
for
treasures
of
the
day
;
Sweet
Spices
,
Gums
,
and
all
the
Sun
can
boast
,
Or
the
Indulgence
of
the
Indian
Coast
,
Pay
tribute
to
their
hopes
;
which
least
they
may
Perish
near
home
in
wither'd
Norway
stay
:
Where
that
rough
Satyr
Bergen
,
is
possest
Of
the
rich
spoils
of
the
luxurious
East
.
The
Port
was
the
dark
burden
of
that
womb
,
Whose
liquid
bowels
are
the
greedy
tomb
Of
trade
and
hope
,
by
Art
improv'd
to
be
From
Foes
a
Refuge
,
boisterous
Winds
and
Sea.
The
worth
and
safety
,
though
not
equal
Fate
Of
this
fair
prize
,
might
Jasons
emulate
;
That
yellow
fleece
Bulls
hoof'd
with
thunder
kept
,
And
a
more
watchful
guard
that
never
slept
;
This
cloister'd
in
the
hostile
Harbour
lay
,
Maintain'd
by
Castles
and
a
treacherous
way
.
The
English
that
this
proud
return
did
wait
,
(
More
conscious
of
revenge
than
guilty
fate
)
Attempt
with
one
bold
Squadron
of
their
Fleet
,
To
render
vows
though
not
their
hopes
compleat
;
Obsequious
to
their
courage
,
they
dispence
Through
the
sad
lake
a
bloody
influence
;
Which
tears
in
sight
of
the
unfaithful
shore
,
And
spoils
the
fraught
we
would
have
sav'd
before
.
Art
,
fury
,
all
to
ruin
had
design'd
Those
joys
of
peace
,
but
the
mamour'd
wind
,
Which
like
a
Phaenix
in
that
nest
would
lye
,
And
with
a
surfeit
of
those
odors
,
dye
;
Thus
jealous
grown
,
does
with
full
cheeks
oppose
,
Those
flames
which
ships
dissembl'd
to
our
foes
.
Retreating
thence
as
Lions
,
which
some
Wile
Or
Stratagem
did
of
their
Prey
beguile
.
We
cleave
the
briny
Element
to
meet
Dodona
sacred
to
our
Jove
,
the
Fleet.
The
Dutch
at
home
improve
their
Hulls
with
Men
,
And
Rigg
their
vanquish'd
Ruins
out
agen
;
Not
to
impeach
our
bays
,
but
to
Convoy
The
frighted
Barques
we
labour'd
to
destroy
.
Arriv'd
they
tell
their
joy
,
and
wing
their
Sails
With
greeting
shouts
,
that
breath
conspiring
Gales
;
When
Heaven
(
to
shew
how
frail
Mens
passions
are
,
How
soon
proud
hope
is
chang'd
to
sad
despair
)
Contracts
his
brow
,
and
buries
in
a
cloud
,
The
worlds
bright
Eye
;
whilst
Aeolus
aloud
Proclaims
his
challenge
through
the
troubl'd
Main
,
That
now
repeats
their
danger
once
again
.
The
clouds
drawn
down
upon
the
labouring
deep
,
Divide
(
as
Shepherds
scatter'd
from
their
Sheep
)
The
armed
Convoys
from
the
wealthy
Fleet
Which
beg
from
the
wild
Contest
a
retreat
,
With
sighs
that
break
th'
abortive
womb
of
fear
,
When
English
Frigats
,
louder
storms
,
appear
.
Some
the
loud
summons
of
our
Cannon
wait
,
Others
with
dread
and
silence
watch
their
fate
;
Those
that
got
safe
and
'
scapt
both
Enemies
,
Paleness
and
grief
entitl'd
to
the
Prize
.
So
shiptwrackt
Men
which
safely
swim
to
shore
,
Their
treasures
in
hoarse
Surges
lost
deplore
.
Now
Titan
in
his
oblique
course
had
stray'd
,
From
the
just
ballance
of
the
days
,
and
made
The
sullen
brow
of
Winter
to
maintain
The
priviledge
of
Naval
wars
in
vain
:
For
the
incensed
Dutch
invade
the
Skies
,
And
their
wise
rage
the
blackest
storm
defies
;
Cloudy
Orion
with
their
Fleet
they
dare
,
And
Regiments
of
fish
disbanded
are
To
their
revenge
and
fate
;
loud
Engines
roar
On
bleating
Cattel
objects
on
the
shore
.
Thus
we
Caligula
in
Records
view
,
(
His
Legions
in
Battalia
)
to
subdue
The
harmless
Ocean
,
when
their
Helmets
bore
Trophees
of
Cockle
from
our
Neighbour
shore
.
The
aged
Solstice
gone
,
new
months
supply
The
teeming
Earth
with
visits
from
the
sky
,
Soft
Zephyres
breathing
on
the
opening
Scene
Of
fragrancy
,
with
blushing
vestures
,
green
;
The
softer
bosome
of
the
Earth
is
charg'd
With
buds
from
blossomes
tenderly
enlarg'd
:
The
painted
flowers
with
their
early
pride
,
Steal
from
their
prisons
to
adorn
the
bride
,
Nature
;
whose
youth
(
propensive
to
increase
,
And
celebrate
the
Festivals
of
Peace
)
Does
with
unwilling
looks
new
vigor
give
,
When
war's
cold
embers
in
fresh
flames
do
live
;
But
time
and
war
one
strict
resemblance
hold
,
And
in
Eccentrick
Circles
both
are
rowl'd
:
Strife
moves
a
milder
course
when
leafs
appear
,
And
silent
sleeps
,
when
Storms
infest
the
Year
.
The
Spring
our
Navy
from
its
moist
aboad
,
To
Neptunes
spacious
Courts
invites
abroad
;
Where
floating
(
thus
sick
fortune
prov'd
unkind
)
Another
way
one
Squadron
is
design'd
.
The
wary
Dutch
the
silent
Ocean
shade
In
Castles
lin'd
,
with
Nations
for
their
aid
,
So
bold
;
hope
seem'd
espous'd
and
banish'd
fear
:
The
Duke
still
constant
in
them
both
drew
near
;
His
courage
like
a
Rock
frowns
on
the
Main
,
Storms
in
their
wildest
fury
to
restrain
.
Approacht
the
business
of
the
day
is
ply'd
,
With
terror
,
noise
and
death
on
either
side
;
In
Sable
shades
of
rowling
smoak
they
fight
,
Till
they
Anticipate
the
wings
of
night
;
And
when
the
stifl'd
Sun
had
cleans'd
his
beams
,
From
their
pollution
in
th'
Hesperian
streams
,
Aurora
,
Heaven
with
guilded
lustres
grac'd
,
Which
were
again
by
Stygian
rage
defac'd
.
The
Belgian
courage
shone
like
flames
which
rise
From
wood
,
and
not
improv'd
by
Bellws
,
dyes
:
The
English
burns
like
oyl
,
nor
needs
the
Name
Of
wind
or
wine-improvements
to
a
flame
;
Nor
ebbs
and
flows
with
fortunes
erring
tides
,
But
'bove
the
power
of
her
Empire
rides
:
So
small
our
force
that
could
we
own
her
frown
,
The
bold
Attempt
might
teach
the
world
Renown
.
The
Heroe
manag'd
by
his
prowess
steers
,
And
the
safe
bulwark
of
his
Charge
appears
;
His
Conduct
such
,
his
Antique
Lawrels
now
Spred
to
defend
as
well
as
Grace
his
brow
:
Wont
to
reprove
the
clamors
of
the
sky
,
Here
his
bold
wreaths
a
louder
fate
defie
.
Now
shifts
the
doubtful
Scene
,
and
we
discry
The
message
of
new
hopes
hang
in
the
sky
:
So
shews
the
radiant
Ensign
of
the
day
,
When
Storms
submit
to
his
Majestick
ray
.
The
Prince
appears
,
with
whom
whilst
we
unite
,
The
Dutch
like
Theeves
are
Victors
made
by
flight
;
With
full
spred
Sails
they
leave
the
dreadful
News
,
Panting
Revenge
as
hastily
persues
,
And
summons
to
repeat
the
Tragick-Play
,
Whilst
the
confused
Sea
and
Sun
obey
,
The
Emphasis
of
rage
,
and
all
things
there
Dissolv'd
from
their
first
principals
appear
.
The
colder
Element
becomes
the
Stage
,
On
which
the
first
dares
improve
his
rage
.
The
heavy
bowels
of
the
Earth
do
fly
,
(
As
though
they
center'd
upward
)
through
the
Sky
.
Those
fatal
druggs
which
wretched
Arts
compose
,
To
wing
those
fates
that
pregnant
Guns
inclose
,
To
the
dull
Earth
once
quiet
Tenants
were
;
Now
in
thick
Mists
inhabiting
the
Air
,
Obstruct
the
passage
of
prevailing
fire
,
Which
lost
in
its
own
bowels
climbs
no
higher
.
Those
stately
Piles
of
wonder
and
delight
,
Which
on
the
rowling
Billows
did
invite
The
silver-footed
Nymphs
to
feast
their
eyes
,
And
doubt
them
of
their
watry
Dieties
;
●●●nt
stain'd
with
gore
,
and
loud
with
groans
appear
No
more
their
objects
of
delight
,
but
fear
.
There
flaming
Aetna
and
Vesuvius
seem
Belching
out
smoak
and
fire
on
the
stream
:
The
Portholes
flames
,
and
iron
showrs
dispence
As
burning
Caverns
do
curl'd
Cinders
thence
.
Here
burning
Pines
sad
Fun'ral
Rites
supply
;
There
Tumults
of
one
wound
together
dye
:
Some
climb
the
waves
,
and
in
their
Bowels
meet
The
fate
from
which
their
hasty
fears
retreat
.
Confusion
spreads
her
Sable
Plumes
,
as
Night
And
clouds
obscure
the
Canopy
of
light
;
Through
which
black
vail
(
so
burning
Meteors
blaze
,
And
Mortals
with
approaching
ills
amaze
)
Shines
Rupert
like
another
Jove
,
from
whom
The
Dutch
by
thunder
do
receive
their
doom
:
His
floating
Tower
is
the
sphere
which
hides
,
Whole
flakes
of
dying
fury
in
its
sides
;
His
Martial
influence
by
Heaven
sent
,
Taught
the
Capricious
Goddess
to
repent
.
So
the
Dictaean
God
did
Iris
send
,
When
victory
to
either
side
should
bend
.
Live
the
blest
Theme
of
the
Castalian
Spring
,
You
that
were
made
your
Countrys
Offerring
!
Though
dying
in
a
croud
,
may
every
Name
Swell
the
immortal
Heraldry
of
fame
;
Whose
wings
now
open
to
salute
our
shore
,
Laden
with
homage
as
the
year
before
:
Whilst
the
success
,
mysterious
Holland
(
wise
●n
figures
)
by
Synecdoche
belies
;
And
with
Italian
Arts
betrays
the
world
,
Through
which
her
subtile
Characters
are
hurl'd
.
Nor
had
the
bays
obey'd
the
doubtful
laws
Of
disputation
,
whilst
the
weary
Cause
●nt'rest
and
Envy
urge
;
but
the
dispute
Must
have
slept
quiet
in
a
loud
persuit
,
Had
not
those
lofty
Firrs
,
which
crown'd
of
late
,
●ome
mighty
Grove
stoopt
to
their
second
Fate
,
And
prostrate
on
the
Deck
disarm'd
the
wind
,
And
the
two
Heroes
to
their
Rage
confin'd
:
Whilst
the
Batavians
with
their
shatter'd
Fleet
First
leave
the
Seas
,
and
to
their
Ports
retreat
.
PAle
Phaebe
had
not
twice
her
silver
gleams
Of
light
replenish'd
by
her
Brothers
Beams
,
When
the
Dutch
Navy
reacht
the
British
Coasts
,
Proud
to
deceive
the
Christian
World
with
boasts
,
To
mend
the
Errors
of
this
fatal
Chance
,
After
some
time
our
ready
Sails
advance
;
While
the
dull
Belgians
with
a
guilty
look
(
Like
one
in
his
own
politicks
mistook
)
Survay
the
motion
of
this
dreadful
Fleet
,
By
which
they
must
their
shame
or
ruin
meet
:
They
gaze
like
men
,
whose
wandring
sight
betray'd
,
By
the
vast
distance
of
the
object
made
,
To
think
that
but
some
rising
Bank
,
which
nigh
,
Results
a
Hill
,
whose
Fore-head
beats
the
Sky
.
At
Sea
the
Day
propitious
to
their
Rage
,
These
floating
Armies
furiously
engage
;
Whilst
Artick
and
Antartick
Kingdomes
wait
(
With
Continents
between
)
to
know
the
Fate
Of
the
loud
Combate
,
and
the
Nations
,
who
Parcel
the
Regions
which
they
ne'r
subdue
.
So
Pompeys
Gallants
did
old
Rome
divide
,
When
the
Pharsalian
Victor
spoil'd
their
pride
.
Not
many
Hours
blood
and
ruin
breath'd
,
The
waves
discolour'd
,
human
Bowels
sheath'd
With
flying
Balls
;
but
triumph
and
success
,
With
all
their
Marks
our
Generals
do
bless
:
These
Heroes
lodg'd
within
that
ample
Frame
,
Whose
Pride
displays
our
mighty
Monarchs
Name
(
No
Vulgar
Crowds
fit
for
their
Nobe
Rage
)
The
Chieftain
of
the
Belgian
Fleet
engage
.
Courage
does
Heaven
oblige
,
and
such
Attempts
Like
future
Faith
from
threatn'd
Harms
exempts
.
Now
Death
on
the
pale
wings
of
lightning
flies
,
And
fatal
storms
of
Thunder
wound
the
Skies
.
The
Royal
ship
such
heavy
Ruins
throws
,
De
Ruyter
can
no
longer
bear
the
blows
;
But
spreads
his
Canvas
to
intreat
the
wind
From
following
foes
security
to
find
.
Some
as
they
flye
we
seize
,
the
rest
that
reach
Their
Ports
,
the
fatal
Overthrow
do
preach
;
With
which
alarm'd
,
their
Beacons
burn
on
shore
,
Afraid
of
what
they
threatn'd
us
before
.
One
Squadron
of
their
Fleet
by
Heaven
design'd
To
a
more
Cruel
Fate
remains
behind
;
With
which
the
Admiral
of
the
blew
contends
,
Who
burns
,
and
sinks
,
and
with
his
Ordnance
rends
;
Till
the
maim'd
Remnant
with
obedient
Sails
Implores
the
succours
of
assisting
Gales
.
Here
one
might
see
those
solid
Planks
the
Grace
,
And
latest
Pride
of
Thames
persue
the
Chace
;
Whilst
the
Ambitious
Air
before
their
Ports
,
With
our
Victorious
Flaggs
and
Standart
sports
:
The
Chieftains
now
dispencing
as
they
please
The
fate
of
all
that
float
the
vanquish'd
Seas
.
To
the
KING
upon
the
same
.
GREAT
SIR
!
to
whom
as
the
first
source
we
owe
,
What
by
degrees
descends
on
us
below
;
Olympus
owns
a
Tryumph
in
Your
Name
,
And
eccho's
to
the
joy
our
shouts
proclaim
.
Nations
will
now
their
Neutral
Arts
forget
,
As
streams
their
Currents
in
one
Ocean
met
.
Spain
will
desert
her
Phlegm
to
reach
that
shore
Whose
Kindness
ruin'd
Nations
can
restore
.
France
that
forgot
her
Annals
may
advise
With
her
old
Ruins
,
and
too
late
grow
wise
.
Denmark
(
whose
white
and
aiery
Mountains
dare
Sin
to
another
Babel
in
the
Air
)
Her
angry
Rocks
may
quarrel
with
the
Sea
,
But
from
Your
Influence
cannot
be
free
.
Now
Amphitrite
is
Your
own
,
You
may
Teach
Kingdoms
with
Your
Trident
to
obey
:
The
Gordian
Knots
their
Interests
have
tyed
,
Your
Power
is
extended
to
divide
;
Whilst
Your
Victorous
Frigats
press
the
Main
,
Your
Title
to
that
Empire
to
maintain
.
FINIS
.