THE SEA-FIGHT; OR, THE FRENCH PRIZE TAKEN: A BALLAD.

'To your quarters, my lads; we are now within shot; Let your guns be all loose in their tackle,

Your ports be knock'd open, and every thing got

In a right ready order for battle.

See, see that the decks and the gun-room be clear,
And take care that your matches be lighted;

Tho' she boldly bears down she shall find when she's near
That we bold Brittains scorn to be frighted.

'Up noise of trumpets; be brisk; hail our prize.

Hark she answers again with her trumpets.

:

She's resolv'd to engage; to the windward she plys.
See, her colours are out and her drum beats.
Hold fast, jolly gunner; let Monsieur begin;

We are are able, my boys, to receive him.
If he galls us at first, when we get him close in,
We will make him submit e'er we leave him.

Cheer up, golden boys; we are never the worse,
Tho' sh'as pour'd in a broad-side upon us;
She only has rak'd us a little : no force,
Jolly lads, have the enemy done us.

Their turn shall be next. Port easy, edge nigh her;
Be sure bear your guns to a tittle.

God give us good luck, and now, gunner, give fire.
Zounds! starboard; now shear off a little.

'Huzza! my good lads; that was done to our mind.
She's our own; we shall certainly have her.
See, see, she bears up with a stiff gale of wind,
That her leaks may be stopped which we gave her.
Port, port, for she shoots ahead from us apace;
Hoist the topsail and bear briskly after;

Now, gunner, with good store of langril and case
Let the guns be all loaded for slaughter.

'Thus, thus; keep her thus; well steer'd, my good boys,

I find we shall soon be upon her.

Now, lads, for the gold that's aboard of the prize;
It will all be your own when you've won her.

Port easy, edge tow'rds her, and run up her side.
Now under our lee we have got her;
As stout as she seems we shall humble her pride.
Now, gunner, give fire and have at her.

'See, see how the enemy lye heads and points.

Our shot have done great execution;

We have shatter'd their limbs, and so mangled their joints. That they are all in a bloody confusion.

Now board 'em, my lads; see you[r] lashes are clear;

Huzza! and couragiously enter.

I hope we shall find e'ery Brittan that's here

Will be bold in so brave an adventure.

How they hide between decks; by their skulking they show

That the French are but puny bravadoes.

Wounds! cut up her hatches, and ply 'em below
With your stinkpots and hand granadoes.
Avast they submit and cry out for their lives.
Good quarter we're ready to grant ye.

If you'll lay down your arms, and come out of your hives,
And obey me as I shall command ye.'

"Yea, yea, we surrender." "Then haul down your sails, And furl 'em without opposition;

For he that crys "Quarter," and after rebels,

Shall be hanged without any compassion.

Now loose all your lashings and shear off the ship.
We are clear. Go and hoist out the shallop.

Bring the pris'ners on board, but not load her too deep,
Least the ocean should swallow ye all up.'

'Be sure you take care of the captain and those In commission, and civilly use 'em ;

For tho' they are pris'ners, as well as our foes,
'Tis beneath British souls to abuse 'em.

Good fortune to them the success might have gave;
Let us therefore respectfully treat 'em ;

For tho' they are conquered they yet may be brave,
Tho' but cowards to those who have beat 'em,

'How chear yee, my lads? is not this jolly sport?
See how Fortune invites you to fight on.
Stand in with our prize to the next merry port;
Tow her in for the honour of Brittan.

Now fling up the bowl; bring an anchor of Nantz;

Let the doctor thank God for His mercies;

Then we'll drink the Queen's health to our captives of France With a French man-of-war at our arses.

The dismal lamentation of the widows and fatherless children for the loss of their husbands and relations, that was blown up on board the Edgar man-of-war, October, 15, 1711.

To the Tune of Aim not too high.

IST WOMAN.

Hark! hark! alas! what fatal news is come!
It strikes a terror great thro' Christendom.

2ND WOMAN.

What is it, neighbour? Pray, to me unfold.

IST WOMAN.

The sadest news that ever mortal told.

2ND WOMAN.

Hold me not in suspence, good neighbour, pray,
But tell me quickly what you have to say:

I hope our ship and all in her is well;

I long to hear you. Pray, come quickly tell.

IST WOMAN

Here is a letter- O prepare your ears !—

From Gosport Hospital. Let floods of tears

Flow from your eyes: the gallant Edgar's gone.

Ah! neighbour, neighbour, well may we make moan.
Your husband dear and mine, and many more,

Are blown up in the air, near thirty score,

By fatal chance of powder; by one blast

Our tender husbands now have breath'd their last.

Here comes a messenger can tell the rest ;
I cannot speak, I am so much opprest.
Come, gentle messenger, relate their woe,
And tell, in brief, the truth of all you saw.

MESSENGER.

I was at Spithead that time, and saw the sight.
I was amaz'd; my soul it did affright :

Five hundred persons blown up in the air;
Their shrieks and cries no mortal cou'd declare.
Some short-allowance mony was to be paid
That fatal day, for which on board they stay'd.
They merry were, and little did they dread
That the next moment they should all be dead.
Removing gun-powder some hours they was;
That powder wrough[t] their dismal woes, alas !
Thro' some neglect fire to th' powder got,
And all these people kill'd upon the spot.
Blown in an instant up, at once indeed;

That dreadful blow makes hearts of stone to bleed.

Like roaring thunder gave a dreadful crack;

Both ship and people quickly went to wrack.

Legs, arms, heads, hands, feet, hips, bones, back and thighs

By fire and powder flew up to the skies.

Shatter'd at once in shivers up they flew,

And in an instant fled from mortal view.

Their sudden shrieks, gone just before they went,
Did eccho shrilly, and tho' all was bent

To help them in distress, yet it was vain,
Their ship in thousand pieces rent in twain.

2ND WOMAN.

O wretched sight! O fatal was the day!
O my dear husband, art thou fled away?
Was this thy fatal exit from this world?
No grave! but peace-meal was thy carcass hurl'd.
O heavy message! the sad tidings spread :
O my dear husband, are you from me fled?
My soul sinks deep with grief for this my loss,
In deep despair my parting soul is toss'd.

IST WOMAN.

Ah, neighbour, neighbour, you are not alone.
Here's hundreds of us to lament and moan

M

Our poor unhappy husbands' fatal fall.
Sweet Jesus Christ take pity on us all.
Children and widows send up doleful cries;
Their lamentations pierce quite thro' the skies :
Bereft of earthly joys, with grief opprest,
'Tis God alone can ease each troubled breast.
Their earthly stay and staff from them is gone,
Wherefore they must depend on God alone.
And our good Queen will pity of them take;
Then grant them help for blessed Jesus' sake.
One man of all that number is alive,
But is so weak he cannot long survive.
Then let us all prepared be for death,

Since none knows when we must resign our breath.
By providence the captain just before,
With's lady too, did chance to go ashore.
Some other officers and sailors too
Are sav'd, and did that danger quite eschew.
Then let us all our sinful lives amend,
Since God such punishments to mortal send.
Let's bear in mind this tragedy just past,
And strive to live as each day was our last.

THE SAILOR'S COMPLAINT.

Come and listen to my ditty, all ye jolly hearts of gold,
Lend a brother tar your pity who was once so stout and bold;
But the arrows of God Cupid, alas! have made me rue,
Sure true love was ne'er so treated as I am by scornful Sue.

When I landed first at Dover she appeared a goddess bright. From foreign parts but just come over I was struck with so fair a sight;

On the shore pretty Susan walked near to where our frigate lay, And altho' so near the landing, I, alas! was cast away.

When first I hail'd my pretty creature, the delight of land and

sea,

No man ever saw a sweeter, I'd have kept her company;
I'd fain have made her my true love, for better or for worse,
But, alas! I could not compass her for to steer the marriage

course.