THE DUTCH GAZETTE:
OR,
The Sheet of Wild-Fire, that Fired the
DUTCH FLEET.
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I'Le tell ye not of Etna's Flames, nor Troy's,
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That long agoe has fill'd the World with noise:
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Nor of Romances, nor of Histories,
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Done Ages long before, whose Obsequies
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Were sung by Laureate Pens; that which I tell,
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The Storyes of the World can't parallel.
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Rupert I sing, Duke Albermarle, and Homes,
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And of the rest, that sent those to their homes,
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Whose Pride and Envy, Hell itself ('twas such)
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Can't match, would you know who I mean, the Dutch.
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Who had a Hundred sixty Ships, and more,
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Of Merchant-men, lay sleeping on their Shore,
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And never dreamt of danger, till we came,
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And took them napping; Ask but Amsterdam,
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Who stood Spectators there, and saw their Sayles
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Tranform'd to Sheets of Wildfire, and those Gales
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That use to swell and spread abroad their 'tire,
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Serve now as Bellows to set all on fire.
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For Guinnae some, others for Russia bound,
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Scarce one worth less than Fifteen thousand Pound.
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Did you ne'r see the Winged Troop, that flies
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From Flower to Flower, until their laden thighes
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Force a retreat? Did you ne'r see them strive,
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Which should goe richest laden to his Hive?
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Just so each Souldier, in a plenteous measure,
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Has made his Cabb'n, a Cabinet of Treasure.
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Silks, Hollands, Silver-spoons, Plate, Cloth of Gold,
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All had their choice to take what e're they would.
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These are the Dutch, that did but th' other day
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Make Bonefires o're their Land for Victorie, ----
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But never thought of seeing This by Sea. --------
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Where Helm and Rudder, Top, Top-sayl, and all,
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Within few hours to Dust and Ashes fall.
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Had but Will. Lilly seen this Blazing Comet,
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I'le lay my life it had portended Somewhat
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Of strange event, as he'd have made appear
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In his Prognostication for next Year.
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They'l block the Seas up, why then so they shall,
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No fitter Heads than theirs to do't withall;
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Where they may lay 'um together, and counsel take,
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How many Bonefires they had best to make.
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Now will I loose the Pinion of my Quill,
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And dictate to my Muse a Word at will;
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That Fame itself, that Herauld (and not I)
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Shall shew the Blazon of our Victory.
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At which the World distracted stands with fear,
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And won't believe but that the Gods were there.
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Great MONK so thundered, that 'twas hard to say
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Whether 'twas He, or Fate, that got the Day.
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Smith sent such Thunderbolts as ne'r were made
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By Vulcan, since he first wrought of his Trade;
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Who gaz'd, but durst not come within a Shot,
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For fear his other Legg had gone to Pott.
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'Twas Smith, whose Sword so often quench'd in Blood,
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Return'd so hard, as not to be withstood.:
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Steel to the Hilt; this Proverb has he got,
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He ne'r strikes stroke until the Iron's hot.
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Had Goffe, Ben. Johnson, or had Shakespear been-
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Spectators there, such Acts they should have seen, --
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As they ne'r acted in an English Scean: -----------
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These fought with Blows, they only clash'd in Words;
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They fought with Foyls, but these with naked Swords.
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Here should they've seen an angry Sea their Stage,
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Cover'd with rolling Billows, Foam and Rage;
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Now sunk to Hell, anon with Pride so high,
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As if it gave defiance to the Skie.
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There should they've seen retiring Rooms of War,
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Such Rooms as farr excells Romes Theater:
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A Ghastful Scean, not Thebes, but Thetis Womb,
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Wherein the Actors did themselves intomb.
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Here dives a Corps, there struggles one half dead:
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Here sinks a Trunk cut shorter by the Head;
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Here one 'twixt hope and fear thinks 'tis a dream;
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And there another strives against the stream;
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Here dive a hundred Dutch into their Graves;
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There dye as many of the Waves;
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Here one turmoyls, and there another strives,
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Yet scarce two in a hundred save their lives.
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Such Musick as they had, had but Troy known,
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'Twould quickly've made the Grecians fled their Town.
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Had poor Ulysses heard but one broad-side,
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'T had made him quake, and been afraid to ride
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The Grecian Horse, his wood'n Bucephalus
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Had been transform'd into a Pegasus.
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Had Monk but Thunder'd at proud Babels Wall,
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Babels proud Battlements had got a fall:
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Had th' Great Collossus stood where he discharges,
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He'd veyl'd his Bonnet to our Boanarges.
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Th' AEgyptian Pyramid (whose massie Tower,
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The Jawes of Time could never yet devour)
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When he discharges, its proud Marbles must
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Lay down their palsey Heads within the Dust.
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Great Conquerours, could I your Worth indite,
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The World unworthy were of what I'de wtite.
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Your steely Souldiers too, I dare but name,
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For fear I over-charge the Trump of Fame,
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That caus'd the World proverbially to say,
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THEY fought like Englishmen, and wonn the Day.
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Return, Great Conquerours, live Men of Mirrour,
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Englands chief Glory, but the Dutches Terrour.
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Who have a Tromp too, but the World's to blame,
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If e're they take Him for the Trump of Fame.
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