Iter boreale With large additions of several other poems: being an exact collection of all hitherto extant. Never before published together. The author R. Wild |
 |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
AN ESSAY Upon the late VICTORY obtained by
His Royal Highness the Duke of York,
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
 | Iter boreale |  |
64
AN ESSAY Upon the late VICTORY obtained by His Royal Highness the Duke of York,
Against the DUTCH, upon June 3. 1665. By the Author of Iter Boreale.
Gout! I conjure thee by the powerful Names
Of CHARLES and JAMES, and their victorious Fames,
On this great Day set all thy Prisoners free,
(Triumphs command a Goal-Delivery)
Set them all free, leave not a limping Toe
From my Lord Chancellors to mine below;
Unless thou giv'st us leave this day to dance,
Thou'rt not th' old Loyal Gout, but com'st from France.
'Tis done, my grief obeys the Sovereign Charms,
I feel a Bonfire in my joynts, which warms
And thaws the frozen jelly; I am grown
Twenty years younger; Victory hath done
What puzled Physick: Give the Dutch a Rout,
Probatum est, 'twill cure an English Gout.
Of CHARLES and JAMES, and their victorious Fames,
On this great Day set all thy Prisoners free,
(Triumphs command a Goal-Delivery)
Set them all free, leave not a limping Toe
From my Lord Chancellors to mine below;
Unless thou giv'st us leave this day to dance,
Thou'rt not th' old Loyal Gout, but com'st from France.
'Tis done, my grief obeys the Sovereign Charms,
I feel a Bonfire in my joynts, which warms
And thaws the frozen jelly; I am grown
Twenty years younger; Victory hath done
What puzled Physick: Give the Dutch a Rout,
Probatum est, 'twill cure an English Gout.
63
Come then, put nimble Socks upon my Feet,
They shall be Skippers to our Royal Fleet,
Which now returns in dances on our Seas,
A Conqueror above Hyperboles.
A Sea which with Bucephalus doth scorn
Less then an Alexander should be born
On her proud Back; but to a Loyal Rein
Yields foaming Mouth, & bends her curled Main:
And conscious that she is too strait a Stage
For Charls to act on, swell'd with Loyal Rage,
Urgeth the Belgick and the Gallick shore
To yield more room, Her Master must have more,
Ingrateful Neighbours! 'twas our kinder Isle,
With Her own Blood, made Your Geneva Stile
Writ in small Print [Poor States and sore Perplext:]
Swel to the [HIGH AND MIGHTY LORDS] in text;
And can ye be such Snakes to sting that Breast
Which in your Winter gave you Warmth & Rest?
Poor Flemish Frogs, if Your Ambition thirst
To swell to English Greatness, You will burst.
Could you believe Our Royal Head would fail
To Nod those down, who fell before our Tail?
Or could Your Amsterdam by her commands,
Make London carry Coals to warm her Hands?
A bold attempt! Pray practice it no more;
We sav'd our Coals, yet gave you fire good store.
It is enough; The righteous Heavens have now
Judg'd the Grand Quarrel betwixt us and you.
The Sentence is—The Surface must be ours,
But for the bottom of the Sea 'tis yours:
Thither your Opdam with some thousands, are
Gone down to take possession of your share.
They shall be Skippers to our Royal Fleet,
Which now returns in dances on our Seas,
A Conqueror above Hyperboles.
A Sea which with Bucephalus doth scorn
Less then an Alexander should be born
On her proud Back; but to a Loyal Rein
Yields foaming Mouth, & bends her curled Main:
And conscious that she is too strait a Stage
For Charls to act on, swell'd with Loyal Rage,
Urgeth the Belgick and the Gallick shore
To yield more room, Her Master must have more,
Ingrateful Neighbours! 'twas our kinder Isle,
With Her own Blood, made Your Geneva Stile
Writ in small Print [Poor States and sore Perplext:]
Swel to the [HIGH AND MIGHTY LORDS] in text;
And can ye be such Snakes to sting that Breast
Which in your Winter gave you Warmth & Rest?
Poor Flemish Frogs, if Your Ambition thirst
To swell to English Greatness, You will burst.
Could you believe Our Royal Head would fail
To Nod those down, who fell before our Tail?
Or could Your Amsterdam by her commands,
Make London carry Coals to warm her Hands?
A bold attempt! Pray practice it no more;
We sav'd our Coals, yet gave you fire good store.
It is enough; The righteous Heavens have now
Judg'd the Grand Quarrel betwixt us and you.
The Sentence is—The Surface must be ours,
But for the bottom of the Sea 'tis yours:
64
Gone down to take possession of your share.
Methinks I here great Triton sound a Call,
And through th' affrighted Ocean summon all
His scaly Regiments, to come and take
Part of that Feast which Charls their King doth make;
Where they may glut Revenge, quit the old score,
And feed on those who fed on them before;
Whom when they have digested, who can find
Whether they're fish, or flesh, or what's their kind?
Van-Cod, Van-Ling, Van-Herring, will be cry'd
About their Streets; All Fish, so Dutchifi'd.
The States may find their Capers in their Dish,
And meet their Admirals in butter'd Fish.
Thus they'l imbody and increase their Crew;
A cunning way to make each Dutch-man two.
And on themselves they now must feed or fast;
Their Herring Trade is brought unto its Last.
And through th' affrighted Ocean summon all
His scaly Regiments, to come and take
Part of that Feast which Charls their King doth make;
Where they may glut Revenge, quit the old score,
And feed on those who fed on them before;
Whom when they have digested, who can find
Whether they're fish, or flesh, or what's their kind?
Van-Cod, Van-Ling, Van-Herring, will be cry'd
About their Streets; All Fish, so Dutchifi'd.
The States may find their Capers in their Dish,
And meet their Admirals in butter'd Fish.
Thus they'l imbody and increase their Crew;
A cunning way to make each Dutch-man two.
And on themselves they now must feed or fast;
Their Herring Trade is brought unto its Last.
| Iter boreale | |