59 On high-raised decks the haughty Belgians ride,
       Beneath whose shade our humble frigates go: 
     Such port the elephant bears, and so defied
       By the rhinoceros, her unequal foe.

  60 And as the build, so different is the fight;
       Their mounting shot is on our sails design’d: 
     Deep in their hulls our deadly bullets light,
       And through the yielding planks a passage find.

  61 Our dreaded admiral from far they threat,
       Whose batter’d rigging their whole war receives: 
     All bare, like some old oak which tempests beat,
       He stands, and sees below his scatter’d leaves.

  62 Heroes of old, when wounded, shelter sought;
       But he who meets all danger with disdain,
     Even in their face his ship to anchor brought,
       And steeple-high stood propt upon the main.

  63 At this excess of courage, all amazed,
       The foremost of his foes awhile withdraw: 
     With such respect in enter’d Rome they gazed,
       Who on high chairs the god-like fathers saw.

  64 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 shatter’d 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;
     Berkeley[41] alone, who nearest danger lay,
       Did a like fate with lost Creusa meet.

  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,
       Stretch’d 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, shipwreck’d, 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.