London drollery, or, The wits academy being a select collection of the newest songs, lampoons, and airs alamode : with several other most ingenious peices [sic] of railery, never before published / by W.H.

The Dutch Insolence the occasion of the War with them, ending with an Elegy on Mr. Boyle.

WHen the Dutch States with Insolence were grown So monstrous big, they scarce had room for one,

They sought about for more, yet naught could please But the Dominion of the Brittish Seas: In order unto which, they load the main With Men of War, and all the world disdain, Their Sails being fil'd with what themselves are full They under Sail did then attempt to pull The power into their own hands, from her that nurst Them up; they did attempt, but in the attempt they burst: For when calm Albion's King a while had view'd The monstrous preparations of this rude Ignoble people, strait he lanched forth A mighty Navy, mighty for its worth, But for its Conduct more; being led by him Whose glorious Actions might the Caesars dim, Illustrious James it was, whose powerful Arm The Dutch felt burning hot, when he scarce warm: And 'mongst the Noble train did waite upon His Royal Highness, noble Boyle was one: A noble youth, who in his Aspect bore The Characters of good, and great in store: His person built to such a height and due Proportion, as any thing that's true: And with his person, such his actions were That every move was pleasing, every move did dare To something great: yet with such modest mean, He was admir'd, and lov'd as soon as seen; And though the convex of his body wore This taking Aspect, yet within was more:

For there a genious sate, so strung, that strait To what you toucht, if what you toucht had weight: Above her great reason sate, which did controul The expanding vigour of his mighty Soul: Which like a fermentation else had broke, The pollish'd cask, before this fatal stroke: True courage now it was, upon whose wings He clim'd the Tragick stage, and dar'd such things That Mars himself no sooner saw, but sent In fire and smoke, to him a Complemement: But spightful Death, who in an ambush lay, In this great Tragedy to chuse his prey: Had hid himself within that Cloud of Smoke, That Mars had sent, and gave that fatal stroke By which he fell, yet honourably dy'd In's Countries Service, by his Princes side: His Soul then being fled, to whom 'twas due, A contest here then about his body grew; The Earth claim'd it as hers, and had prepar'd In her own bowels to have it there inter'd; But Neptune greedy of so great a prize, Did bounce and foam, and at the Deck did rise To demand his Dead, at which the tall Ship bow'd her lofty Head, and Sails and all, For nothing else could Neptunes wrath appease But that same body, to adorn his Seas, At which the Marble wept, and does weep yet, Cause that his Name's not in her Forehead writ.