King William is the glorious instrument, Which by the providence of God was sent To save our drooping laws and liberty From French and Popish cruel tyranny. When in dark gloomy cells the plot was laid This free-born land and nation to invade, Bold Brittain sail’d forthwith her royal fleet, Which did the daring enemy defeat. Renowned Russell let them understand That, for the honour of his native land, Thro’ smoke and flame he could with courage go To face proud Lewis, that insulting foe. No fear nor favour could his actions sway, Nor could he in the least be drawn away From acting like a noble hero bold, For all the promised gifts of cursed gold. [The] valiant Ashby let them feel his rage, While death he rid in triumph o’er the stage Of the French navy on the ocean main, And English boys did victory obtain. The spirits of the French began to faint, So that they pray’d to ev’ry Popish saint To help them in a time of sad distress; Yet they were burnt and beaten ne’ertheless. Admiral Carter fought them through and through, The like of him before they never knew; His chain-shot did their ships in pieces tear, As if great Jove with thunder had been there. Brave Delavall met with the _Rising Sun_ Of France, who to the shore for shelter run With many more, which in a stately flame He soon did set, our glory to proclaim. Sir Cloudsly Shovel, with a valiant heart, In this most glorious conquest bore a part; His roaring cannons sunk them in the main, From whence they never can return again. The force of France he ne’er was known to fear, But, like a stout commander, vow’d to clear The seas of French, or they should make his grave And monument in a rough roaring wave. The next was Rook, that brave, heroick soul, Who none alive could ever yet controul; A dozen men-of-war of France he burn’d, Who e’er next day was all to ashes turn’d. The French was follow’d to their very shore, Pursu’d with guns, which did like thunder roar: Such admirals before was never known; They scar’d old Lewis--nay, and shook his throne. Nor were the valiant Dutch-men far behind: They on the ocean bear a noble mind; True sons of thunder, that will not retreat Until they see their foes destroyed and beat. Tho’ they had once been wounded on the main, Like soldiers, they resolved to bleed again, Or bring the proud insulting tyrant low, Who strives to seek all Europe’s overthrow. Those valiant souls let all good men commend; Their lives they ventur’d freely to defend Religion, laws, and likewise liberty: ’Tis better dye than live in slavery. But God above, I hope, will ever bless Our arms by sea and land with good success, That victories may constantly increase Till war is swallow’d in a glorious peace.