Smiled gently down on Shirley's prosperous sway,
The Prince of Light rode in his burning car,
To see the overtures of Peace and War
Around the world, and bade his charioteer,
Who marks the periods of each month and year,
Rein in his steeds, and rest upon High Noon
To view our Victory over Cape Brittoon.

But now the Reverend Thomas Prince's litany, rhymed by
a later bard, summed up the gist of all the supplications
that ascended from the Puritans:

O Lord! We would not advise;
But if, in Thy Providence,
A Tempest should arise,
To drive the French fleet hence,
And scatter it far and wide,
Or sink it in the sea,
We should be satisfied,
And Thine the Glory be.

Strange to say, this pious suggestion had been mostly
answered before it had been made. Disaster after disaster
fell upon the doomed French fleet from the very day it
sailed. The admiral was the Duc d'Anville, one of the
illustrious La Rochefoucaulds, whose family name is known
wherever French is read. He was not wanting either in
courage or good sense; but, like his fleet, he had little
experience at sea. The French ships, as usual, were better
than the British. But the French themselves were a nation