University of Virginia Library

WAR: BOOK II.

The Argument

The descent at Cherburg. Blowing up the bason, Goree attacked by the Honourable Augustus Keppel: and surrendered to him. Admiral Rodney's bombardment of Havre de Grace; and burning the flat-bottom boats; with an Address to Great-Britain. Boscawen's sailing, and chasing De Clue. The engagement. De Clue, and part of his squadron, driven on shore; with the pannic they were in on seeing the Spanish fleet, and supposing them to be an English fleet.

Great GEORGE's, Grandson, lands on Gallia's shore;
His batt'ring guns; and royal mortars roar;
Close ply'd, well aim'd, are bombs, and dashing balls;
Before the princely hero, Cherburg falls;
Low as the dust, strong ramparts, down are thrown;
Aloft, in air, the costly bason's blown;
How smil'd, our good, old King; how trembled Gaul;
Whilst Edward's cannon, raz'd proud Cherburg wall;
Paternal doubts; and ardent wishes rise;
Whilst tears of transport, sparkled in his eyes;
Grandly exulting; more than king he stood
Whilst Edward fought, confessing Brunswick's blood;
So stands, the royal hunter, to survey
His cubs, who grapple with a stubborn prey;
He swings his tail, exulting at the sight;
And trembling, longs to mingle in the fight;
With love paternal fir'd, and ardent rage,
He sees the lions, as the cubs engage;
At length, the vanquish'd foe, is drown'd in blood;
He shakes his mane, and roars his approbation loud;
As if Vesuvius, uprooted torn;
Against Goree, to battle had been born;
Brave Keppel, in the Torbay, fierce assail'd,
Fort, after fort, and mightily prevail'd;
Whilst fate, in triumph, in each broadside rode,
Troops, tars, and Keppel, all, for vict'ry glour'd,
Shot, after shot, bomb after bomb, he sent!
Silenc'd their guns! platforms, and ramparts rent;
The Gauls grew cold, as warm the Britons grew!
And greatly emulous, to battle flew;
They ceas'd their fire, and pull'd their ensign down,
And gave our troops possession of the town.
See! Rodney, next, th' invasive project marr!
Subverts French schemes, and their flat bottom'd war!
Britannia's fleet, at Havre, threats the shore!
And brazen mortars, in bombardment roar!
From iron vehicles, the veng'ance broke!
And all their plans, evaporate in smoke!
Britain! let loose thy rough, undaunted tars!
And smile applause, on all thy sons of Mars:
Let no cabals, thy patriots aims frustrate!
Nor cival discontent, disturb the state!
Then under Providence, we may expect,
A lasting peace, the pride of Gallia checkt!
Now Hawke, and Boscawen, with terrors ride,
Across the main, to curb the Gallic pride:
And in Lagos, and Quiberon's fam'd bay,
Our gallant tars, their naval worth display;
Attack, and strike the fleets of Gaul, with dread dismay!

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Boscawen, first engages with the foe;
And gains new laurels from his overthrow!
Frighted before! at Spaniards in the bay;
They tack'd confus'd! and stood again at sea.
Chimeras fill'd their minds! black fear prevails;
And ev'ry cloud, was England's swelling sails!
So tim'rous souls, (dreading nocturnal shade!)
A similar mistake, have often made.
A sudden glance, a-cross a glitt'ring pool,
'Twas light'ning flash'd! and shou'd some growling bull,
Bellow terrific, thro' th' adjacent plains,
Some fiend infernal, roar'd and shook his chains!
From non-existing ills, they strive t' escape,
Stumble on nought! and into ditches leap!
So Frenchmen now, substantial dangers meet,
Shunning the shadow of an English fleet
Our fleet, no sooner, to their view appear'd,
False signals made, and Britain's ensigns rear'd,
Thro' all their ships, the wonted fears prevail;
They dropp'd their coursers, and set ev'ry sail;
Now glow'd our tars! and thro' the foaming sea,
They chas'd De Clue, and long'd to seize their prey;
As thro' the concave of the gloomy sky,
(On wings of winds unborn, on which they fly;)
Black clouds, chace clouds, in dread tremendous form;
Pregnant with light'ning, hail, and thunder storm!
So Gallia's flying ships, and our pursuing fleet,
Glide on in flaming gloom, and in loud thunder greet;
Yard-arm, and yard-arm now, and side, to side,
Pikes, piston, guns, and cannons all are ply'd.
From ship, to ship, grapples, and chains are thrown;
Pole axes grasp'd, and cutlasses are drawn:
With inborn glow, our care prepare t' assail,
Resolv'd they board, and uncontroul'd prevail.
Brave Boscawen bears down, with gen'rous rage;
And tho' dismasted, dares De Clue t' engage.
So fierce they fought; so many broadsides fir'd;
The brass relented, and the guns grew tir'd;
De Clue now fled, (with thousands) hid in smoke,
Which from the British fleet, with veng'ance broke;
And left their ships, at random on the sea,
To rocks, and flames, and English tars a prey.
To shun Boscawen's rage, and horrid roar,
The Gallic Ocean tumbled on the shore.
End of BOOK II.
 

The French fleet, seeing the Spanish fleet in the bay, (as they were going into harbour,) tack'd and stood off again at sea: by which means, they met, the (so much dreaded) English fleet, which they so vainly endeavoured to shun.

If I am not much mistaken, I heard, that the muzzles, of some of the Ocean's brass guns, bent downward; the metal being molify'd, by excessive heat of the oft repeated discharges.

The ship De Clue commanded.