And now, as where Patroclus' body lay, Here Trojan chiefs advanced, and there the Greek; Ours o'er the Duke their pious wings display, And theirs the noblest spoils of Britain seek. 65. Meantime his busy mariners he hastes, His shattered sails with rigging to restore; And willing pines ascend his broken masts, Whose lofty heads rise higher than before. 66. Straight to the Dutch he turns his dreadful prow, More fierce the important quarrel to decide; Like swans, in long array, his vessels show, Whose crests advancing do the waves divide. 67. They charge, recharge, and all along the sea They drive, and squander the huge Belgian fleet; Berkley alone, who nearest danger lay, Did a like fate with lost Creusa meet.[131] 68. The night comes on, we eager to pursue The combat still, and they ashamed to leave; Till the last streaks of dying day withdrew, And doubtful moonlight did our rage deceive. 69. In the English fleet each ship resounds with joy, And loud applause of their great leader's fame; In fiery dreams the Dutch they still destroy, And, slumbering, smile at the imagined flame. 70. Not so the Holland fleet, who, tired and done, Stretched on their decks, like weary oxen, lie; Faint sweats all down their mighty members run, Vast bulks, which little souls but ill supply. 71. In dreams they fearful precipices tread; Or, shipwrecked, labour to some distant shore; Or in dark churches walk among the dead; They wake with horror, and dare sleep no more, 72. The morn they look on with unwilling eyes, Till from their main-top joyful news they hear Of ships, which, by their mould, bring new supplies, And in their colours Belgian lions bear.[132] 73. Our watchful general had discerned from far This mighty succour, which made glad the foe; He sighed, but, like a father of the war, His face spake hope, while deep his sorrows flow.[133] 74. His wounded men he first sends off to shore, Never, till now, unwilling to obey; They, not their wounds, but want of strength, deplore, And think them happy, who with him can stay. 75. Then to the rest, "Rejoice," said he, "to-day; In you the fortune of Great Britain lies; Among so brave a people, you are they, Whom heaven has chose to fight for such a prize. 76. "If number English courages could quell, We should at first have shun'd, not met, our foes, Whose numerous sails the fearful only tell;[134] Courage from hearts, and not from numbers grows."[135] 77. He said, nor needed more to say; with haste, To their known stations, cheerfully they go; And, all at once, disdaining to be last, Solicit every gale to meet the foe. 78.