Great Ormond first lands with his jolly marines, Then fit to serve Anna the greatest of Queens: In order they march, two thousand and all, All handsom young men, all lusty and tall. Of the Dons and their guns they do but make sport, Defy their whole army, and ravish their fort: They had blockt up their port with mast, cable, and chain, But Hobson soon taught ’em ’twas labour in vain. _You Monsieurs and Dons, if with losses you meet, Yet don’t be discourag’d, we’ll pay off your fleet._ Your boom is now cut, and your fort is now taken, And now, rogues, where are you? Now where is your bacon? Your Shaterino, we shall make him to skip; But, scorning to yield her, he burns his tall ship: ’Twas a forest alone, ’twas a new _Rising Sun_, But alas! this must set, as the former had done. Surviving confounders against us still roar, Excuse them this once and they’ll do so no more. _You Monsieurs and Dons, tho’ with losses you meet, Yet don’t be dismay’d, we have paid off your fleet._ Now after work, wages, we’ll laugh and relate, O, what a rich cordial is plunder and plate! Both Monsieurs and Dons had been many moons rigging And thousands of hands many years had been digging: But (O, ’tis to them a sad tale to be told!) For us ’twas they rigg’d, and digg’d silver and gold. The dreadful now quake, and the poor galleons Surrender rich cargo to tars and dragoons. _But what is’t to us if with losses they meet? If we had their money, we paid off their fleet._ O, Britain, be thankful for such a good Queen! The like since great El’zabeth never was seen: Be thankful for statesmen who don’t rob and starve us; For sea and land worthies that fight to preserve us: Be thankful for Ormond, the Churchills, and Rook; But yet, let me tell you, God never will brook Your cursing and swearing, your lying and cheating; These winds are contrary, they’ll hinder defeating. _Let Lewis repent too; for what can he gain, Who looses his soul for the kingdoms of Spain._ _ON THE SEA FIGHT BETWEEN SIR G. R. AND TOULOUSE, 1704._