MARINER

Near to the cost I have discribde my Lord, As I was busy in my watchful charge. The proud Armado of king Edwards ships, Which at the first far off when I did ken, Seemed as it were a grove of withered pines, But drawing near, their glorious bright aspect, Their streaming Ensigns wrought of coulloured silk, Like to a meadow full of sundry flowers, Adorns the naked bosom of the earth. Majestical the order of their course, Figuring the horned Circle of the Moon, And on the top gallant of the Admiral, And likewise all the handmaidens of his train: The Arms of England and of France unite, Are quartered equally by Heralds art; Thus titely carried with a merry gale, They plough the Ocean hitherward amain: Dare he already crop the Flewer de Luce: I hope the honey being gathered thence, He with the spider afterwards approached Shall suck forth deadly venom from the leaves, But where out Navy, how are they prepared, To wing them selves against this flight of Ravens. I will my Lord. My gracious sovereign, France hath to ne the foil, And boasting Edward triumphs with success; These Iron hearted Navies, When last I was reporter to your grace, Both full of angry spleen of hope and fear: Hasting to meet each other in the face, At last conjoined, and by their Admiral, Our Admiral encountered many shot, By this the other that beheld these twain, Give earnest penny of a further wrack, Like fiery Dragons took their haughty flight, And Like wise meeting, from their smoky wombs, Sent many grim Ambassadors of death, Then gan the day to turn to gloomy night, And darkness did aswell enclose the quick, As those that were but newly reft of life, No leisure served for friends to bid farewell, And if it had, the hideous noise was such, As each to other seemed deaf and dumb, Purple the Sea whose channel filled as fast, With streaming gore that from the maimed fell, As did her gushing moisture break into, The cranny cleftures of the through shot planks, Here flew a head dissuuered from the trunk, There mangled arms and legs were tossed a loft, As when a wherle wind takes the Summer dust, And scatters it in middle of the air, Then might you see the reeling vessels split, And tottering sink into the ruthless flood, Until their lofty tops were seen no more. All shifts were tried both for defence and hurt, And now the effect of vallor and of force, Of resolution and of a cowardice: We lively pictured, how the one for fame; The other by compulsion laid about; Much did the N m per illam, that brave ship, So did the black snake of Bullen, then which A bonnier vessel never yet spread sail, But all in vain, both Sun, the Wine and tied, Revolted all unto our foe men's side, That we perforce were fain to give them way, And they are landed, thus my tale is done, We have untimely lost, and they have won. They having knowledge, brought them by the scouts, Did break from Anchor straight, and puffed with rage, No otherwise then were their sails with wind, Made forth, as when the empty Eagle flies, To satify his hungry gripping maw.