Being sunk, took, and burn’d, There’s not many return’d, Was this not a wo ... full disaster? How they far’d on our coast Let ’em sail home and boast To old Lewis, old Lewis, their fistula-master. When he hears how they sped It will strike him near dead, Losing what he lo ... ng has been getting; But we’ll have him to know That we’ll still keep him low: He shall never, shall never, boys, conquer Great Britain. _ADMIRAL RUSSELL’S SCOWERING THE FRENCH FLEET; OR, THE BATTLE AT SEA._ Thursday in the morn, the Ides of May, Recorded be for ever the famous ninety-two. Brave Russel did discern by dawn of day The lofty sails of France advancing now. ‘All hands aloft, aloft; let English valour shine. Let fly a culvering, the signal of the line; Let ev’ry hand supply his gun. Follow me, and you’ll see That the battle will be soon begun.’ Tourville o’er the main triumphant rowl’d To meet the gallant Russel in combat on the deep; He led the noble train of heroes bold To sink the English admiral at his feet. Now every valiant mind to victory does aspire; The bloody fight’s begun, the sea itself on fire, And mighty Fate stood looking on Whilst a flood all of blood Fill’d the port-holes of the _Royal Sun_. Sulpher, smoak, and fire disturbed the air, With thunder and wonder to fright the Gallick shore; Their regulated bands stood trembling near To see their lofty streamers now no more. At six a clock the Red the smiling victor led, To give a second blow, their total overthrow. Now death and horror equal reign; Now they cry, tun, or dye! Brittish colours ride the vanquish’d main. See they run amaz’d thro’ rocks on sands: One danger they grasp at, to shun a greater fate. In vain they crie for aid to weeping lands; The nimphs and sea gods mourn their lost estate. For ever more adieu, thou dazling _Royal Sun_; From thy untimely end thy master’s fate begun: Enough, thou mighty god of war. Now we sing, ‘God bless the King, Let us drink to ev’ry English tar.’ Come, jolly seamen, all with Russel go To sail on the main, proud Monsieur for to greet And give our enemy a second blow, And fight Tourville if that he dare to meet. Come, brother tar, what cheer? Let each [his gun] supply, And thump ’em off this year, or make Mounsie[u]r to fly While we do range the ocean round. Day or night we will fight When our enemy is to be found.