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Each officer fell, and a carnage was seen,
gave it a Triton to crown captain Death.
Thus fell the strong Terrible, bravely and bold ;
THE SEA FIGHT IN XCII.*
*HURSDAY in the morn, the ides of May,
Recorded for ever the famous ninety-two,
The lofty fails of France advancing now:
Let every hand supply his gun;
And you'll see
Tourville * The great naval victory, intended to be celebrated by this excellent old song, was determined, after a running action of several days, off cape La Hogue, on the coast of Normandy, the 22d of May, 1692, in favour of
Tourville on the main triumphant rollid,
To meet the gallant Russel in combat on the deep;
To fink the English admiral at his feet.
Whilst a flood,
All of blood,
Sulphur, smoke and fire, disturbing the air,
With thunder and wonder affright the Gallic shore; Their regulated bands stood trembling near,
To see the lofty streamers now no more.
the English and Dutch combined fleets, consisting of 99 fail of the line, under the command of admiral Russel, afterwards earl of Orford, over a French Squadron of about half that number, commanded by the chevalier Tourville, whose ship, Le Soleil Royal, carried upwards of a hưndred guns, and was esteemed the finest vefsel in Europe. This last fiect was fitted out for the purpose of restoring King James the second to his dominions; and that prince, together with the duke of Berwick, and several great officers, both of his own court, and of the court of France, and even Tourville his self, beheld the final destruction of the French ships from an eminence on the shore. It is, now, certain that Russel had engaged to favour the scheme of his old masters restoration, on condition that the French took care to avoid him; but Tourvilles impetuofity and rashness rendered the whole measure abortive: And the distressed and ill-fated monarch retired, in a fit of despondency, to mourn his misfortunes, and recover his peace of mind, amid the solitary gloom of La Trappe.
At fix o'clock.the Red the smiling victors led,
Now they cry,
Run or die,
See they fly amaz’d through rocks and fands,
One danger they grasp at to fun the greater fate ;
The nymphs and sea-gods mourn their loit estate.
Now we fing,
Bless the king,