ENGLAND'S GLORY.

Being an excellent new Ballad on the Fleet at Spithead.

         To the Tune of, The Cut-Purſe.

COme you Lovers of Peace, who are ſaid to have Sold
Your Votes, that the War of Queen Anna might ceaſe ;
Come ye Lovers of War, who 'tis certain of old
Would have Hang'd, if you cou'd, all the Lovers of Peace :
Come you Whig and you Tory,
Attend to my Story,
For you ne'er heard the like, nor your Fathers before you ;
How Britain, Great Britain is Queen of the Main,
And her Navies in Port are the Terror of Spain.

                           II.

Come you Country ſo gentle, that pay all the Charge,
And you Stateſmen ſo ſimple, that Squander for nought ;
Come and ſee for Diverſion a Sq adron ſo large,
'Twould jack Spaniard have Beat, if it durſt but have Fought :
How the Streamers ſo high
Are Inſulting the Sky,
Ay, and ſright little Birds too, if they dare to come nigh ;
For Britain, Great Britain, &c.

                           III.

With Bomb and with Fireſhip, with Powder and Ball,
Theſe ſtout Men of War, they were furniſh'd with ſpeed,
And had plenty of Gun, tho' they us'd none at all,
And full gallant they Sail'd 'till they came to Spithead :
But then Fleury cry'd Boh !
So no farther they go,
Tho' the Tide it did Serve, and the Wind it did Blow :
For Britain, Great Britain, &c.

                           IV.

What a ſtately Appearance They make when they're Join'd,
In a fierce Line of Battle with Truſty Myn beer ?
What a wond'rous Incitement to Valour, to find
They 're as ſafe in the Front, as they are in the Rear ?
They that count Them all o'er,
Reckon Forty and more,
Which is all out as good, as if they made up Fourſcore :
For Britain, Great Britain, &c.

                           V.

Their Commander, Sir Charles, would believe his own Eyes,
Nor Commiſſion would take, like a Pig in a Poke ;
To be ſent on Fools Errand he Wifely Denies,
And to loſe both his Fleet and his Life for a Joak ;
And if Admiral Ho-
ſier had but done ſo,
Neither he nor his Thouſands had Periſh'd, I trow :
For Britain, Great Britain, &C.

                           VI.

Tho' the Frenchman, a Friend, need not ſtrike to our Flag,
And the Man won'd force Him Diſcarded has been ;
Let not Enemies hence take occaſion to Brag,
We ſhan't humble the Pride of the Catholick Queen ;
If that Vixon on Throne,
Won't give Us our Own,
Then this Navy ſhall teach Her, to let it alone
For Britain, Great Britain, &c.

                           VII.

Our Ships have been order'd, Unwifely 'tis thought,
In the Indies to Fry, on the Baltick to Freez ;
But our Governors. Now, have avoid d tha fault,
And have Station d Them better by many degrees ;
Whether ſafely may go,
Both the Bell and the Beau,
Both the Ladies and Lords to the New Raree-Show
For Britain, Great Britain, &c.

                           VIII.

The Admiral prudently comes up toTown,
Becauſe in the Fleet there is nothing to do ;
And the Holiday Gentry, by Sh als they go down,
While the Seamen their 'haviour full mannerly ſhew
Tho' they muſt not Advance,
Upon Deck they may Dance,
Without any Offence to our Brother of France :
For Britain, Great Britain, &c.

                           IX.

The Courtiers now ſay, We no longer muſt Rail
At the Taxes, becauſe they ſo wifely are Spen ;
For our Veſſils are Light, tho' they're not fit to Sa'e
And of Landmen and Women w'have full Compliment :
Even Hampden they vow,
Were he living ' ill now,
Would not grudge them Ship-Money for ſuch a fine Sho
For Britain, Great Britain, &c.

                           X.

Rather give up Gibraltar, than let your Sher fly,
Quoth Mo fieur, 'tis in vain for Engagement to wiſh ;
Quoth our other Good Friend, Hogan Mogan ſo fly,
You may Cruze on your Coaſt, but muſt catch no Fiſh ;
Bu no Anger ſhall rife
In our Gracious Allies,
The' We Man out a Fleet e'ery Year to catch Flies :
For Britain, Great Britain, &c.

                           XI.

Our Merry-Men Feaſied, 'twas all that they did,
While Time ſtay'd for no Man; and Summer d d waſt
But as ſoon as the Letter came Poſt from M drid,
And the great Brazen-head blunder'd out, Time is paſt
Then our Squ dron ſo S out,
Without Triumph or Ro t,
Sail'd in, to as good Purpoſe as e'er it Sail'd out :
For Britain, Great Britain is Queen of the Main,
And her Navies in Port are the Terror of Spair.

                        FINIS.