to Don Sebastian, and promis'd that his Subjects fhould turn Chriftians, that Monarch, contrary to the Advice of all his Council, imbark'd with 13,000 Men, of whom Stukely and his 800 Soldiers made a part, upon Promife, that this Expedition ended, he would immediately fail for Ireland. A pitch'd Battle, and that a bloody one too, was fought, during which Moluc, who had lain lingring, dy'd in his Litter, Sebaftian was flain, and Mahomet flying, wasdrowned in paffing the River Mucazen. The Particulars of this Battle are foreign to my Purpofe, I fhall therefore refer thofe who are Curious of feeing them to Monfieur Vertot's Hiftory of the Revolutions in Portugal.

IN the Weft of England,

Born there was, I understand,

A famous Gallant was he in his Days,

By Birth a wealthy Clothier's Son,

Deeds of Wonders hath he done,

To purchase him a long and lasting Praise.

If I would tell his Story,

Pride was all his Glory,

And lufty Stukely he was call'd in Court,

He ferv'd a Bishop in the West,

And did accompany the beft,

Maintaining of himself to gallant Sort.

Being thus efteemed,

And every where well deemed,

He gain'd the Favour a London Dame,

Daughter

Daughter to an Alderman,

Curtis fhe was called then,

To whom a Suitor gallantly he came.

When the his Perfon spyed,

He could not be denyed,

So brave a Gentleman he was to fee; She was quickly made his Wife,

In Weal or Woe to lead her Life,

Her Father willing, thereto did agree.

Thus in State and Pleasure,

Full many Days they measure,

"Till cruel Death with his regardless Spight, Bore old Curtis to the Grave,

A thing that Stukely wish'd to have,

That he might revel all in Gold fo bright.

He was no fooner tombed,

But Stukely he prefum'd,

To spend a Hundred Pounds a Day in wafte; The greatest Gallants in the Land

Had Stukely's Purfe at their Command,

Thus merrily the time away he pass'd.

Taverns and Ordinaries,

Were his chief Braveries,

Golden Angels there flew up and down;

Riots were his best delight,

With stately feafting Day and Night,

In Court and City thus he won Renown.

Thus wafting Lands and Living,

By this lawless giving,

At length he fold the Pavements of the Yard, Which cover'd were with Blocks of Tin,

Old Curtis left the fame to him,

Which he confumed lately as you have heard.

Whereat

Whereat his Wife fore grieved

Defiring to be relieved,

Make much of me dear Husband, fhe did say. I'll make much more of thee (said he)

Than any one shall verily,

I'll fell thy Cloaths, and fo I'll go my way.

Cruelly this Hard-hearted,

Away from her parted,

And travell'd into Italy with speed;

There he flourish'd many a Day,

In his Silks and rich Array,

And did the Pleasures of a Lady feed.

It was the Lady's Pleasure,

To give him Goods and Treasure,

For to maintain him in great Pomp and Fame;

At laft came News affuredly

Of a fought Battel in Barbary,

And he would valiantly go fee the fame.

Many a noble Gallant,

Sold both Land and Talent

To follow Stukely in his famous Fight,

Whereas three Kings in Perfon would

Adventurously with Courage bold,

Within this Battel fhew themselves in Fight.

Stukely and his Followers all

Of the King of Portugal,

Had Entertainment like to Gentlemen:

The King affected Stukely fo,

That he his Secrets all did know,

And bore his Royal Standard now and then.

Upon this Day of Honour,

Each Man did fhew his Banner,

Morocco, and the King of Barbary,

Portugal

Portugal, and all his Train.

Bravely glittering on the Plain,

And gave the Onset there most valiantly.

The Cannons they rebounded,

Thund'ring Guns redounded,

Kill, kill, was all the Soldiers cry; Mangled Men lay on the Ground,

And with Blood the Earth was drown'd,

The Sun likewise was darkned in the Sky.

Heaven was so displeased,

And would not be appeased,

But Tokens of God's Wrath did show,

That he was angry at this War,

He fent a fearful Blazing Star,

Whereby the Kings might their Misfortunes know.

Bloody was the Slaughter,

Or rather wilful Murder,

Where Sixfcore thousand Fighting Men were flain :

Three Kings within this Battle dy'd,

With forty Dukes and Earls befide,

The like will never more be fought again.

With woeful Arms infolding,

Stukely ftood beholding

The bloody Sacrifice of Souls that Day:

He fighing faid, I woeful Wight,

Against my Conscience here do fight,

And brought my Followers all unto decay.

Being thus molested,

And with Grief oppreffed,

Those brave Italians that did fell their Lands,

With Stukely for to travel forth,

And venture Life for little Worth,

Upon him all did lay their murd'ring Hands.

13

K.

Unto

Unto Death thus Wounded,

His Heart with Sorrow fwooned,

And to them thus he made his heavy Moan; Thus have I left my Country dear,

To be thus vilely murder'd here,

E'en in this Place, whereas I am not known.

My Wife I have much wronged,

Of what to her belonged,

I vainly spent in idle Courfe of Life;
What I have had is past I fee,

And bringeth nought but Grief to me,
Therefore grant me Pardon, gentle Wife.

Life I fee confumeth,

And Death I fee prefumeth,

To change this Life of mine into a new : Yet this my greatest Comfort brings,

I liv'd and dy'd in Love of Kings,

And fo brave Stukely bid the World adieu.

Stukely's Life thus ended,

Was after Death befriended,

And like a Soldier buryed gallantly

Where now there flands upon the Grave,

A ftately Temple builded brave,

With Golden Turrets piercing to the Sky.