Each officer fell, and a carnage was seen, That foon died the waves to a crimson from green: Thus fell the strong Terrible, bravely and bold; But fixteen furvivers the tale can unfold; The French were the victors,-though much to their coft,- SONG LXV. THE SEA FIGHT IN XCII.* HURSDAY in the morn, the ides of May, TH Recorded for ever the famous ninety-two, The lofty fails of France advancing now: Follow me, And you'll fee That the battle will be foon begun. N 3 1 Tourville *The great naval victory, intended to be celebrated by this excellent old fong, was determined, after a running action of several days, off cape La Hogue, on the coaft of Normandy, the 22d of May, 1692, in favour of te Tourville on the main triumphant roll'd, To meet the gallant Ruffel in combat on the deep; He led the noble train of heroes bold, To fink the English admiral at his feet. Now every valiant mind to victory doth aspire, All of blood, Fill'd the fcupper-holes of the Royal Sun. Sulphur, fmoke and fire, disturbing the air, To fee the lofty ftreamers now no more. the English and Dutch combined fleets, confifting of 99 fail of the line, under the command of admiral Ruffel, afterwards earl of Orford, over a French fquadron of about half that number, commanded by the chevalier Tourville, whose ship, Le Soleil Royal, carried upwards of a hundred guns, and was efteemed the fineft veffel in Europe. This laft fleet was fitted out for the purpose of restoring King James the fecond to his dominions; and that prince, together with the duke of Berwick, and feveral great officers, both of his own court, and of the court of France, and even Tourville his felf, beheld the final deftruction of the French fhips from an eminence on the fhore. It is, now, certain that Ruffel had engaged to favour the scheme of his old mafters restoration, on condition that the French took care to avoid him; but Tourvilles impetuofity and rafhnefs rendered the whole measure abortive: And the diftreffed and ill-fated monarch retired, in a fit of defpondency, to mourn his misfortunes, and recover his peace of mind, amid the folitary gloom of La Trappe. At At fix o'clock the Red the fmiling victors led, Run or die, British colours ride the vanquifh'd main : See they fly amaz'd through rocks and fands, The nymphs and fea-gods mourn their loft eftate. Blefs the king, Let us drink to every English tar |