Where not to be o'ercome was to do more
Than all the conquests former kings did gain.

81 The mighty ghosts of our great Harries rose,
And armed Edwards look'd with anxious eyes,
To see this fleet among unequal foes,
By which fate promised them their Charles should rise.

82 Meantime the Belgians tack upon our rear,
And raking chase-guns through our sterns they send:
Close by their fire ships, like jackals appear
Who on their lions for the prey attend.

83 Silent in smoke of cannon they come on:
Such vapours once did fiery Cacus[42] hide:
In these the height of pleased revenge is shown,
Who burn contented by another's side.

84 Sometimes from fighting squadrons of each fleet,
Deceived themselves, or to preserve some friend,
Two grappling Ætnas on the ocean meet,
And English fires with Belgian flames contend.

85 Now at each tack our little fleet grows less;
And like maim'd fowl, swim lagging on the main:
Their greater loss their numbers scarce confess,
While they lose cheaper than the English gain.

86 Have you not seen, when, whistled from the fist,
Some falcon stoops at what her eye design'd,