Then Neptune thus the Gods address'd: 'The sight is noble, 'tis confess'd, The structure we admire; But yet this monst'rous pile shall meet With one small ship from Britain's fleet, And strike to Britons' fire.' As from his lips the sentence flew, Behold his fav'rite sails in view, And signal made to chase; Swift as Camilla o'er the plain, The _Monmouth_ skimm'd along the main, Unrivall'd in the race. Close to her mighty foe she came, Resolv'd to sink or gain a name Which Envy might admire; Devouring guns tumultous sound, Destructive slaughter flam'd around, And seas appear'd on fire. When lo! th' heroic Gardiner fell, Whose worth the Muse attempts to tell, But finds her efforts vain; Some other bard must sing his praise, And bold as fancy's thoughts must raise The sadly mournful strain. Carkett, who well his place supply'd, The mangling bolts of death defy'd, Which furious round him rag'd; While Hammick[9] points his guns with care, Nor sends one faithless shot in air, But skilfully engag'd. Baron and Winzar's[10] conduct show'd Their hearts with untam'd courage glow'd, And manly rage display'd; Whilst every seaman firmly stood, 'Midst heaps of limbs and streams of blood Undaunted, undismay'd. Austin[11] and Campbell next the Muse Thro' fiery deluges pursues, Serenely calm and great; With their's the youthful Preston's[12] name Must shine, enrolled in list of fame, Above the reach of fate. Hark! how Destruction's tempests blow, And drive to deep despair the foe, Who trembling fly asunder; The _Foudroyant_ her horror ceas'd, And whilst the _Monmouth's_ fire increas'd, Lost all her pow'r to thunder. Now, haughty Louis, cease to boast, The mighty _Foudroyant_ is lost, And must be thine no more; No gasconade will now avail, Behold he trims the new-dress'd sail, To deck Britannia's shore. If e'er again his voice be heard, With British thunder-bolts prepar'd, And on thy coast appears; His dreadful tongue such sounds will send, As all the neighb'ring rocks shall rend, And shake all France with fears. What is more interesting is that one of the _Foudroyant's_ officers, while a prisoner of war on board and on the way to England, wrote a set of verses in honour of the captain of the _Monmouth_. They appeared in the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for July 1758 in this form:-- Chatham, _July 23_. Mr. Urban--By inserting the following Elegy, which was written by a French officer, taken prisoner on board the _Foudroyant_, you will oblige many of your readers, and particularly your humble servant, P. Cochet. ELEGIE SUR LA MORT DU CAPT. GARDINER Ce heros respectable a fini ses beaux jours, Il a trop peu vecu, ce sage capitaine, Le _Monmouth_ pleure encore l'objet de son amour Et moi la cause de ma gene.