Newes from Flaunders.
A new Ballad of the great overthrow that the valliant Captaine Grave Maurice, Sir Frances Veere,
and other of the Queene of Englands friends: gave to the Archduke, and his Army of Spaniards, upon
Sunday being the 22 of June last past, 1600.
To the tune of lusty Gallant.
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YOu that be desirous,
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and therein take delight:
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To h[e]are of bloudie battailes,
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and worthy warlike fight,
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To Flaunders bend your ears a while
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and you shall truely know,
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How valliantly our Noble friends,
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their foes did overthow.
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The Archduke of Austria,
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that bloudy Spanish Lord:
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Like Judas hath converted,
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his booke into a sword.
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To plant by cursed Popery,
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in Flaunders now againe:
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to bring the Queen of Englands friends
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in servitude to Spaine.
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But Noble Prince, Grave Maurice,
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his purpose to prevent:
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Hath entred famous Flaunders,
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to warlike battle bent:
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With fifteene thousand horse and foote,
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prepared well to fight:
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At Phillipeena landed first,
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the twelfe of June by night.
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From thence a long to Oldenbirdge,
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they marched on a maine:
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And cut of all the best reliefe,
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quite from the hoast of Spaine.
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All the sconces and the Fortes,
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that by the way they found,
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Belonging to the Spanish power,
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they raced to the ground.
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And so to Newport marched,
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with thundring lowde allarmes:
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And there besiegde it bravely,
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by force of warlike armes.
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The Cannons plaide up to the walles
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the muskets shot amaine:
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As though that Mars himselfe were come
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to fight or else be slaine.
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By this he heard the Archduke,
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was coming for to raise
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His siedge, with full ten thousand,
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resting neither night nor dayes.
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Whereat the States Generall,
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did choose a Regiment:
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Of nimble Scotch and hardy Dutch,
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their comming to prevent.
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To Count Ernestus of Nassaw
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committed them in charge:
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About foure miles from Newport,
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to fortifie a Bridge.
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Who failed much therein, because
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the Duke had past the same:
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Before Ernestus Regiments,
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all softly thether came.
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The Scotch-men were all cut off,
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and put to slaughter quite:
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But yet the Dutchmen hapned,
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to save themselves by flight.
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The which imboldned so the foe
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that he went forward still:
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Without all daunger of assault,
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or fearing any ill.
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Upon the foure and twenty day,
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they planted on a plaine:
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Eight great Canons soundly chargde
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a battle to maintaine.
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Whereat the Princely Generall,
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the siedge did soone forsake:
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And marcht to meete the Archduke,
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the better ground to take.
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Sir Frances Veere directed him,
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his squadrons to dispose:
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How best for his advantage,
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should set upon his foes.
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Nine Noble English Gentlemen,
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the first encounter gave:
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With as much honour and renowne,
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as any Prince might have.
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But yet before this battell strong,
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betwixt them were begun:
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they strove at least ful two houres long
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for weather, winde and sunne.
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At last Duke Alberts warlike drums
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did thunder in the skies:
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whereat Prince Maurice stird himself
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and thus couragious cryes.
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For Flaunders, and for England,
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brave gallants must we fight:
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In his defence and quarrell,
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that is the God of might.
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To armes I say then gallant lads,
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let nothing us dismay:
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Against professed foes we fight,
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and hope to win the day.
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Which wordes did so imbolden,
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them of the common sort;
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That every one esteemde,
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the battle for a sport.
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Where though they saw an hundred slaine
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by one great Cannon shot:
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Yet none of them in feare thereof,
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from thence would moove a foote.
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Full foure long houres continued,
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this blacke and dreadfull fight:
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That both sides well maintained,
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with courage and great might.
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The Cannons made such lanes of men
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that soldiours wetshood stood:
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As they discharg'd their Musket shot,
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in pooles of purple blood.
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The sunne with smoke was darkned,
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the element likewise:
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That like a dismall cole blacke night,
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appeared all the skies.
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Like mountaines dead men lay on heapes
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most greevous to beholde:
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By numbers great and infinite,
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past reason to be tolde.
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At last the fearfull enemy,
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from field began to flye:
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Whereat our English Captaines,
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saint George saint George did cry,
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The battle's won, the day is ours,
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take courage by this chance:
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And in the honour of this day,
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our English Crosse advance.
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Then foure miles they pursued,
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the Spaniards in their flight:
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still slaughtering them by thousands,
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and so returnde by night.
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To Newport backe with warlike joy
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the siedge for to renew:
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And drive the Spaniards from the towne
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with balles of fiery hew.
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In this same dreadfull battle,
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the Spanish Duke had slaine:
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Above five thousand at the least,
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most heavy newes for Spaine.
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One thousand more they prisoners took
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with all three Spanish Lords:
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Which were by force compeld to yeeld
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them prisoners to our swordes.
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The Duke himselfe as chaunced,
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was hurt with Musket shot:
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And in such sort as hardly he,
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alive to Brussels got.
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His Cannons they were taken all,
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his Treasure and his Plate:
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Which be good prises, and esteemde,
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well of the Flemish state.
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A hundred fiftye Ensignes,
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were taken on that day,
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All which may be sufficient
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the Spaniards to dismay.
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And never more have so bould harts,
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in warre to lift their handes:
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Against our noble English friendes,
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now in the Netherlandes.
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Of English, Scots and Dutchmen,
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we had some store yslaine,
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But few they were in number
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to them that fought for Spaine
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Few chosen captaines we had hurt,
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but brave Lord Graye in fight
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And bould sir Frances of Deveere,
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that most renowned knight.
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Who had bene slaine or smoothered
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amongst the mained men,
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Had not sir Robert Drewrie
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most bravely playd the man,
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Who from the thickest of the fight
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bore him from thence away
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A nobler deed then this was not
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perform'd of all that daye.
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Thus have you hearde the service
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of these our English friendes,
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That stil with losse of life and limmes
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the Flemish state defends.
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God banish thence idolatrie,
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that English men may say:
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That stil we have inspight of Spaine
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some frendes beyond the sea.
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