Bold Rodney, we hear, is come up with a foe, Took one man-of-war, and five frigates also, With about eighteen transports, a very smart blow. _Oh! the bold blades, etc._ Then come, my true Britons, and fill up the glass To George and his navy; around let it pass, And he that won’t pledge it proclaim him an ass; _And it’s, oh! the bold blades, etc._ _THE ROYAL SAILOR._ The foes of Old England (France, Holland, and Spain), Made bold by indulgence, insulted the main; The flag of defiance together unfurl’d, And at England, Old England, their vengence they hurl’d: When Neptune arose from his watry throne; In a coral [red] suit he most beautifully shone; He call’d for his tritons, and bade them repair To the Court of great George, for young William was there. ‘_He’s royal, he’s noble, he’s chosen by me This isle to protect and reign prince of the sea._’ O’erjoy’d at the message, the youth rear’d his head. ‘I’ll fight like a prince,’ were the words that he said; ‘The cause of my country I’ll boldly espouse; To the sea I’m wedded, and give her my vows. With Rodney, with Digby, with Ross I will go, And die, but I’ll conquer each insolent foe.’ The tritons reported the words that he said, And Spain heard the plaudits by Neptune then paid: ‘_He’s royal, he’s noble, he’s chosen by me Britain’s isle to protect and reign prince of the sea._’ The Dons they have felt the effects of his rage; No more with blood royal they’ll dare to engage; For he stood on the deck with his naked drawn sword, And by the bold Digby he passed the word. Humanity touch’d him, tho’ not with base fear, When one noble ship was blown into the air. His courage gave rapture to each jolly tar, Who look on Prince William their bulwark in war. _He’s royal, he’s noble, he’s chosen to be The guard of this isle and the prince of the sea._ _HOOD’S CONQUEST OVER THE COUNT DE GRASSE._ Come, all you jovial sailors, give ear unto my song; Let joy inspire your hearts while glory leads you on. The Count de Grasse with all his fleet has threatened us full sore That with his great armada he’d scour the British shore, Our ships he’d sink, our islands take all under his command; But the courage of bold Britons has stopt his warlike hand. The proud and lofty hero in Port Royal harbour lay, And on the eighth of April from thence he sail’d away, And with his floating batteries, in all just thirty-three, A large convoy of transports to bear him company; With troops and ammunition, as plainly does appear, For to besiege Jamaica his course he strait did steer. He thought this great attempt was very bold indeed, But now I will unfold to you how far he did succeed.