Melpomene: or, The muses delight: Being new poems and songs. Written by several of the great wits of our present age, as I.D. T.F. S.W. T.S. C.O. I.B. &c. Collected together, and now printed.

On The Victory over the Spaniards in the Bay of Sancta Crux, in the Island of Teneriffe.

NOw does Spains Fleet her spacious wings unfold, Leaves the New World, and hastens to the Old; But tho the Wind were fair, they slowly swom, Fraighted with active guilt, and guilt to come; For this Rich load, of which so proud they are, Was rais'd by Tyranny, and rais'd for War. Ev'ry capacious Galleons Womb was fill'd With what the Womb of wealthy Kingdoms yield: The New Worlds wounded Intrails they had tore For Wealth, wherewith to wound the Old one more. Wealth, which all others Avarice might cloy, But yet in them caus'd as much Fear as Joy. For now upon the Main themselves they saw, That boundless Empire where we give the Law.

Of Winds and Waters rage they fearful be, But much more fearful th'English Flags to see. Day, that to those who sail upon the Deep More wisht for, and more welcome is then Sleep, They dreaded to behold, lest the Sun's Light With our dread Streamers should salute their sight. In thickest Darkness they would chuse to steer, So that such Darkness might suppress their fear. At length theirs vanishes, and Fortune smiles, For they behold the sweet Canary-Isles; One of which doubtless is by Nature blest Above both Worlds, since 'tis above the rest. For lest some Gloominess might stain her Sky, Trees there the Duty of the Clouds supply. O Noble Trust, which Heav'n on this Isle pours, Fertile to be, yet never need her showrs! A happy People, which at once do gain The Benefits without the Ills of Rain! Both Health and Profit Fate cannot deny, Where still the Earth is moist, the Air still dry.

There jarring Elements no discord know, Fewel and Rain together kindly grow; And Coolness there with Heat does never fight, This only Rules by Day, and that by Night. There the indulgent Soyl the rich Grape breeds, Which of the Gods the fancied Drink exceeds: They still do yield, such is their precious mold, All that is good, and are not curs'd with Gold, With fatal Gold: for where e're it does grow, Neither the Soyl nor People quiet know; Which troubles men to raise it while 'tis Ore, And when 'tis rais'd, it troubles them much more. Ah! why was thither brought that cause of war Kinde Nature had from thence remov'd so far? In vain doth she those Islands free from ill, If Fortune can make guilty what she will. 'But whilst I draw the Scene where we ere long 'Again may conquer, this is left unsung. For Sancta Crux, the glad Fleet takes her way, And safely there casts Anchor in the Bay.

Never so many with one Joyful Cry, That place saluted where they all must die. Deluded men! Fate with you did but sport; You scapt the Sea, to perish in the Port; 'Twas more for England's Fame you should Die there, Where you had most of Strength, and least of Fear.

The Peek's proud height the Spaniards do admire, Yet in their Brests carry a Pride much higher: Only to this vast Hill a pow'r is giv'n, At once both to inhabit Earth and Heav'n; But this stupendious prospect did not near Make them admire so much as they did fear. For here they met with News which did produce A Grief above the Cure of Grapes best Juyce; They learn'd, with terror, that nor Summers heat, Nor Winters storms could make our Fleet retreat. To fight against such Foes was vain, they knew, Which did the rage of Elements subdue; Who on the Ocean, that does horror give To all besides, Triumphantly do live.

With haste they therefore all their Gallions moar, And flank with Cannon from the neighboring shore; Forts, Lines, and Sconces, all the Bay along They build, and act all that can make them strong.

Fond men! who know not whilst such Works they raise, They only Labour to exalt our Praise. Yet they by restless Toyls became at length So proud and confident of their made strength, That they with joy their boasting General heard, Wisht then for that Assault they lately fear'd. His wish he hath, for now undaunted Blake, With winged speed, for Sancta Crux does make; For our Renown his Conquering Fleet does ride O're Seas as vast as is the Spaniards Pride; Whose Fleet and Trenches view'd, he soon did say, We to their strength are more oblig'd than they: Were't not for that, they from their Fate would run, And a third World seek out, our Arms to shun. Those Forts which there so high and strong appear, Do not so much suppress, as shew their Fear.

Of speedy Victory let no man doubt; Our worst work's past, now we have found them out. Behold, their Navie does at Anchor lie; And they are ours, for now they cannot flie!

This said, the whole Fleet gave it their applause, And all assum'd his courage for the Cause; That Bay they enter, which unto them owes The noblest Wreathes that Victory bestows. Bold Stayner leads: this Fleet's design'd by Fate To give him Lawrel, as the last did Plate.

The thundring Cannon now begins the Fight, And, though it be at Noon, creates a Night; The air was soon, after the Fight begun, Far more inflam'd by it, than by the Sun. Never so burning was that Climate known; War turn'd the Temperate, to the Torrid Zone. Fate had those Fleets just between both worlds brought Who fight as if for both those worlds they fought. Thousands of ways, thousands of men there die; Some ships there sunk, some blown up in the skie.

Nature ne'r made Cedars so high aspire As Oaks did there, urg'd by the active fire, Which by quick Powders force so high was sent, That it return'd to its own element. Torn limbs some Leagues into the Island flie, Whilst others lower in the Sea do lie: Scarce souls from bodies so far sever'd are By death, as bodies there were by fierce War. Th' all-seeing Sun ne'r gaz'd on such a sight; Two dreadful Navies there at Anchor fight; And neither have or power or will to flie; There one must Conquer, or there both must die. Far different motions yet engag'd them thus; Necessity did them, but Choice did us: A Choice which did the highest worth express, And was attended by as high Success. England's resistless Genius there did raign, By which we Lawrels reapt even on the Main. So prosperous Stars, though absent to the sense, Bless those they shine for, by their influence.

Our Cannon now tears ev'ry Ship and Sconce, And o're two Elements triumphs at once. Their Gallions sunk, their Wealth the Sea does fill, The only place where it can cause no ill.

Ah! would those Treasures which both Indies have Were buried in as large and deep a Grave! Wars chief support with them would buried be, And the Land owe her Peace unto the Sea.

Ages to come our Conquering Arms will bless, They there destroy'd what had destroy'd their Peace; And in one War the present Age may boast, The certain Seeds of many Wars are lost.

All the Foes Ships destroy'd by Sea or Fire, Victorious Blake does from the Bay retire; His Siege of Spain he then again pursues, And there first brings of his Success the News. (The saddest News which e're to Spain was brought, Their rich Fleet sunk, and ours with Laurel fraught.) "Whilst Fame in every place her Triumph blows, "And tells the World how much to us it ows.