VERSES

ON THE LATE VICTORY, OBTAINED BY

    ADMIRAL DUNCAN

                OVER THE

        DUTCH FLEET;

    The 11th of OCTOBER, 1797.

        BY P. B. M. DURHAM.

MY Muſe to, high exploits, unus'd to ſing,
In DUNCAN's praiſe, expands her feeble
wing ;
Lowly begins her note, in hopes to ſoar,
O'er ſpace immenſe, to ocean's fartheſt ſhore,
To tell the world, BATAVIA's pride's no more.

Now bounteous Ceres, with unſparing hand,
Had bleſs'd the ſwains, throughout Britannia's
land ;
Long had brave DUNCAN, watch'd the hoſtile
coaſt,
His ſtrong deſire, of an engagement, croft ;
For many galling months, their navy lay,
Supine in port, nor dar'd the glorious day !
'Till the Convention, in an evil hour,
Order'd DE WINTER, to exert his power,
He who in arms, had never known to fear,
By ſome ſtrange foreſight, ſaw their ruin near ;
But ſtill collected, drew out all his force,
And for our ſhore, he ſhap'd his ſteady courſe.
Our ſhips refitting, heard the news with joy,
And ſtraight to meet the foe, all hands employ ;
Soon ready for the ſea, each fail they ſpread,
The vanguard, was by watchful TROLLOPE led !
His ſhip the Ruffel, firſt deſcri'd the foe,
Drawn in a line, their tack on larboard bow.
Brave DUNCAN then, the ſignal made for fight,
To break their line, and to prevent their flight ;
Bold ONSLOW, well the ſignal understood,
Who in the rear, ſoon made his efforts good.
Each gallant ſhip, then gain'd the like ſucceſs,
And on the foe, with utmoſt ardour preſs ;
Cut off from land, they boldly meet our fire,
And their brave leaders, all their men inſpire.
Long the fight laſted, with unceaſing rage,
Skilful DE WINTER, DUNCAN did engage !
'Till half his men, and all his maſts were loſt,
Undauntedly, he kept his dreadful poſt.
His deck was clear'd, unhurt himſelf alone,
His hopes, but not his courage, now were gone !
Nor did he ſtrike, 'till a freſh ſhip was near,
When a deep figh, juſt ſtopp'd a falling tear ;
Then nobly yielded, to his adverſe fate,
And was, to gallant DUNCAN, row'd in ſtare.
Meanwhile fierce ONSLOW, raged in the rear,
And two Vice Admirals, on his deck appear :
Long they return'd, our dreadful broadſides cloſe,
And mouth to mouth, th' artillery oppoſe.
Their broad decks ſwam, with mingled brains and
blood,
The ſhip's tall main maſt, dipp'd the briny flood.
To Onslow then, they fell an eaſy prey,
A well earn'd prize for ſuch a hard fought day ;
Nine other ſhips, their leaders fate partake,
And each are tow'd, in their opponent's wake.
BATAVIA, now your fraud and treachery, mourn,
Your pride is gone, ah ! never to return :
Ye Frenchmen, HOWE victorious you've known
Ye Spaniards, JERVIS mark'd you for his own
Be wiſe in time, lift when Britannia calls,
She truſts for conqueſt to her WOODEN WALLS