AN Heroic Poem UPON THE LATE EXPEDITION OF HIS MAJESTY, To Rescue ENGLAND FROM POPERY, TYRANNY, and ARBITRARY GOVERNMENT.
By
JOHN TUTCHIN,
Gent.
LONDON:
Printed, and are to be sold by
R. Janeway,
1689.
AN HEROICK POEM Upon the Late EXPEDITION, &c.
WHEN Heaven a Godlike
Hero
does create,
By Nature Virtuous, and by Action Great,
Strait some Diviner Muse is called forth,
In Verse Immortal to declare his Worth.
Thus Antique Worthies in Destruction skilled,
With their own Swords plough'd the
Pharsalian
Field;
Whilst softer
Lucan
sang in well-tuned Lays,
The
Victor
's Triumphs, and the
Hero
's Praise.
Let old Renowned
Bards
of Honors tell,
How by their Swords the Mighty Thousands fell:
The Subject of my Younger Muse must be,
A Harmless War, and Bloodless Victory.
I sing the gentle Man of War, to whom
Distressed Nations do with Tribute come.
The mighty
Hercules,
that must Suppress
The Tyrant
Hydra
of the Universe.
In War so happy, so Divinely good,
The
Man of War
's become the
Man of God;
As Sacred Chronicles do oft declare,
The
Man of God
was stilled the
Man of War.
At home in Virtue, and in Fields Renown'd,
Yet Seas themselves cannot his Justice bound.
Some Provinces were his Paternal care,
Blest with their
Jove
in Peace, and
Mars
in War;
Whilst other Kingdoms more unblest than they,
To Savage Force and Rapine were a Prey.
Old
England,
that August and Beauteous Isle,
Made great by wholesome Laws, and fruitful Soil;
Felt such Tyrannick Force without Redress,
That turned her
Eden
to a Wilderness.
Curst with a Government had changed ill,
The Peoples Freedom, for the Prince's Will;
Had changed their Chapels and their Sacred Guests,
For Wooden God's and far more Wooden Priests:
In Courts of Justice did as Judges sit,
Lawyers without Sence, and Statesmen without Wit.
Who taught the Law the Subject to devour,
Gave it no Saving, but destroying Power.
A Tyrant Yoak th' enslaved Subject bore,
Such as their Free forefathers never wore.
Hereat our Prince his Pious care expressed,
Whilst Gen'rous Indignation filled his Breast.
Religious Worthies hear the dread Alarm,
And in his Cause the Warlike
Heroes
arm:
Neptune
gives Ships, and
Mars
does Troops create,
All Threat Destruction to the Tyrant State.
Nature herself does seemingly Espouse,
So Brave a Gen'ral, and so Good a Cause;
Propitiously to their Assistance brings,
A Large Right Gale to fill their
Canvas
Wings.
Here all the Ancient Stories are made good,
Where Tears of weeping Friends augment the Flood.
One curses Winds and Tides, that must Convey
Her
Mars,
her Husband, and her Guard away.
One
Theseus
to his Briny Fortress flies,
Whilst on the Shore his
Ariadne
lies:
Ere this, the
Princess
has the Story told,
Of
Jason
's Warlike Enterprize of old,
Prays for his good Success, her Loss bewails;
With Tears she fills her Eyes, with Sighs his Sails:
Mean while the
Argonauts
expand their wings,
Whilst Roar of
Cannon
their departure sings:
And then the Ocean's Mighty Force they try,
And Storms and Winds, a Potent Enemy.
Men-loving Dolphins now before 'em play,
From Threatning Storms no more secure than they.
A sure Presage of Boistrous Winds and Waves,
When the vexed Deep in Mountains rowls and raves.
The Staggering Ships sustain the Watry Stroke,
Inform'd within by many an Heart of
Oak;
Yet great
Arion
sings unto their Praise,
Tunes his Sweet Lute, and as they Dance, he Plays.
A Mighty Tempest rising from afar,
The Sea itself becomes the Seat of War.
Why, O ye Winds! do you such Roaring keep?
And why such Surges roll upon the Deep?
You do a Great, a Royal Burden bear;
'It is
Caesar,
and our only Hope's your Care.
Are Storms the
Omens
of a Fatal Day?
Or are they Prologues to a Clearer Ray?
All must submit to the Decrees of Heaven,
That shows the way, and has Commission given.
Through Fields of Dangers Men to Kingdoms fly,
Toils are precedent still to Victory.
Thus does some Hostile Muse his
Hero
palnt,
Expos'd to Hardship, Penury, and Want;
Leads him through Desert Paths, the Place where stand
No Fruitful Trees, but Barren Heaps of Sand;
Where Prickly
Furz,
and Lonesome Fern does grow,
And piercing Tempests keeps the Grass still low;
No Eye has seen, or Human Foot has trod;
All Wild and Desert, since the Mighty Flood;
Where Frightful Thunders oft obstruct the Day,
While Raging Winds drive the Black Clouds away;
Where Savage Beasts their several Kinds devour,
The Small ones Tremble, as the Great ones Roar:
Does him ore steepy Hills and Mountains lead,
Makes Heaven his Canopy, and Earth his Bed;
His Pillow some hard Clod, whilst all around,
His Active Warriours slumber on the Ground:
Hunger and Death do stare him in the Face,
And are the equal Terror of the place:
Yet after all his Toils, he does him Crown,
With Lasting Honor, and a great Renown.
A Brighter Day preceding Storms succeed,
And Garlands are the
Victor
's sacred
Meed.
Much happier they that live in Camps at Ease,
Free from the Dangers of the Faithless Seas;
Whilst our Illustrious
Hero
through the Main,
Ploughs the Rough Waves with Danger, Toil and Pain.
The Giddy Fleet, drunk with the Briny Draught,
Hath other Methods, and new Councils taught;
'It is deemed enough through Seas thus far to come,
Are thoughtful now again of Reeling Home:
The
Prince
and
Warriours
both of Hope bereft,
Have nothing now, but Faith and Courage left:
Bravely resolve, but 'tis in vain, they find,
T' oppose the Warring Seas, and Fighting Wind:
A Tyrant Troop of
Legicides
they sought,
Such as Free
Rome
of old, Destroy'd and Fought:
Not Warring Elements, nor yet to prove,
The Bolts and Thunder of Almighty
Jove.
They cry to Heaven the
Ocean
to appease,
And not commit them to Devouring Seas;
Heaven hears their Pray'rs, and sends 'm Gentle Gales
To sink their Cares, and fill their well-trimmed Sails:
Now Lucky
Halcyons
brood upon the Deep,
The Seas are silent, and the Wind's asleep:
The wished for Shore's in view; and at Command,
The long Distressed
Heroes
Mount and Land.
Thus
Moses
once through many Toils did bring
A Vassal people from a Tyrant King;
At his and God's Command the Raging Flood,
Parted its Waters, and a Bulwark stood,
Whilst
Israel
's Seed trod the Imperial way,
Where lately Fish and Sea-born Monsters lay:
No sooner had they touched the other Shore,
But the great Billows meet again, and Roar;
The Tyrant
Pharaoh,
that did lately Rave,
And rode on's Subjects necks, now rode a Wave,
Which soon ore-turned his Tyranny and Pride;
The slaves had Freedom, when the Tyrant died:
When lo! the Ransom'd slaves orespread the Sand;
And at their
Moses,
and their God's Command,
They join in Thankful Notes, and Praises sing,
To their Deliverer, th' Eternal King.
Thus sang our other
Moses,
and his Host,
Who more God's Blessing, than their Conquest, boast.
Thus sings my Muse, the
Man of War,
that lands,
A Prey from Treacherous
Seas,
and Faithless
Sands.
Ah wretched
Albion,
how untun'd, unstrung,
Have our loved
Harps
upon the
Willows
hung?
Our Charming Bards to
Thames
and
Isis
told,
Their
Streams
did flow like
Babylon
's of old:
No
Poetry
must pass, but served the Cause,
Or some
Suspending
Ballad of the
Laws.
Thrice Happy
Albion;
we, the
Man of War,
His Godlike Virtues, and his Worth declare.
Freedom (the much loved Theme) our Lines adorn,
Of which our Fathers sang beneath the Morn.
He that has passed the
Seas
Tumultuous Rage,
What greater Dangers has he to Engage?
A Listed Field of
Arm'd
and
Martial
Foes,
New formed Dangers, and new Terror shows;
Who all in hopes of Foreign
Aids,
Combine
With Foreign Councils, and with Foreign Coin;
Who of their great Alliance boast, and tell,
Of
Rome
's good Wishes, and Decrees of Hell.
The Bloody Wretch, the
Bog-begotten Teague,
Is the weak Prop of the deep-laid Intrigue;
In solid Massacres and Murders read,
Through Treasons deep, and secret Poisons led:
Besides, some Listed Troops against the Laws,
The fittest Champions in son Damn'd a Cause.
But what can
Teagues,
and the
Repealers
do?
The Best are to their Nation's Int'rest true,
The Peoples Freedom, and the Subjects Right;
And cannot against themselves and Country Fight.
Here Juster Muse expand thy weary wing,
The Men of Honor and their Praises sing!
Great
Beaumont,
and the rest, whose Names of late,
Have got a Praise above the Reach of Fate;
Who nobly could Resign, and so declared,
They had their Laws above their Wealth prefer'd:
Whilst to the rest, they Great Examples stood,
Who in the worst of Times dared to be Good.
Our Nobles whilome Melancholy sat,
Nor durst they stop th' impetuous stream of State,
Tho the Foundation-Piles it overturned
Whilst the wronged Subject, like its waters mourned.
Their Native Rights they still exposed saw,
To Sovereign Will, and Arbitrary Law.
Tho they could soon the Massy Fetters break,
It was not Prudence, nor yet Time to speak.
Thus does some yielding Maid herself betray,
And gives to some vile Wretch her Heart away;
Who by Deluding Words, and falser Charms,
Draws the mistaken Damsel to his Arms;
Where soon she finds, by a too late Surprize,
It was her Honor was his only Prize.
'It is vain to struggle, hoping Succor's near;
She sooths and flatters the loathed Ravisher,
When at the door she hears her Father tread,
Who strikes the bold and wanton Lecher dead.
Thus forced by Impious Might, the Nations lay,
Nor durst they put the Tyrant-Bonds away;
Till mighty
Nassau
had his Weapons took,
And the new-raised
Babel-building
shook:
When strait a num'rous Crowd orespread the Sand,
To welcome their
Deliverer
on Land;
With joyful Shouts, the Stranger Army join;
Lord! how their
Spears
and
British Targets
shine!
With such rough Boys
Old England
used to go,
To Fight, and to Destroy th' Invading Foe.
Anger did then, as Joy now, fill each Breast;
Ne're was Invading Army so Carest?
Brave
Cornbury
has more Honor got,
By a Surrender, than to've killed and fought;
And will more Glory in our
Annals
share,
Than Bloody Saints in
Roman Kalendar.
Nor must our Noble
Lovelace
be forgot,
Who first opposed, and smelt the
Ethnic
Plot;
Who fearless of the Law-destroying Yoke,
First stop'd the Fury of the Threatning Stroke;
Welcome, Great Soul, from durance to Command,
And all the Blessings of the Joyful Land:
May you in War, successful Fortune meet,
And humble
Teagues
lie prostrate at your Feet!
Nor be the rest unprais'd, but write their Name,
On the Chief Pinacle of Tow'ring Fame;
Which fears not Eating Age, nor Fatal Shock,
But like our Isle is built upon a Rock:
When after Ages shall our Stories read,
Then Fame shall tell what wondrous Works they did.
In equal Numbers then it shall be told,
How
Macclesfield
the Grave, the Wise, the Old,
Took War and Toils for an inglorious Ease,
To give the Kingdoms Liberty and Peace.
How Standing Troops did from their Leaders fly,
To save their Honor, or in Freedom die:
How
Rome
's own Sword did
Rome
's own King subdue,
How even the Sea
Tarpaulins
proved True.
The Youths unborn, shall lasting Statues raise;
And late Harmonious Bards shall sing their Praise.
Now let our Mighty
Nassau
view the Land,
And subject Towns bending to his Command,
Conquer'd by Goodness, not overcome by Might,
Nor died by Native Blood in Martial Fight.
Indulgent Heaven designed it shonld be,
An Easie, Cheap, and Bloodless Victory.
Tell it in
Gath,
and let the News be known,
In all the spacious Streets of
Askalon:
Let
Zion
's Daughters in our Triumphs sing,
And to the
Choire
Immortal
Stanzaes
bring.
Our Old Men did not the Rough
Ponyard
feel,
Nor fell our Young Men by the Fatal
Steel:
Our Conquest not one Scene of Death affords;
Nor were our
Plough-shares
turned into
Swords.
Now is
Augustus
to
Augusta
come,
And Crouds of Joyful People shout him home:
The Joyful Sound fills Villages Remote,
And Neighb'ring
Ecchoes
lengthen every Note.
To the Great Standard all Mankind resort,
And make a Crowded, and a Splendid Court.
No grand Impiety does here bear sway,
Nor Lust and airy Pleasure crown the Day.
Rest here, Great
Prince,
in Honor and Renown,
Till willing people shall your Temples Crown,
With lasting Garlands, and yield to your Hand,
The Great and Awful Scepter of the Land.
FINIS.