RUSSEL's TRIUMPH

Thursday in the morn, the nineteenth of May, Recorded be forever the famous ninety-two, Brave Russel did discern by break of day, The lofty sails of France, advancing too; All hands aloft they cry, Let English courage shine, Let fly a culverine, The signal of the line, Let every man supply his gun, Follow me, You shall see That the battle it will soon be won.

Tourville on the main, triumphant roll'd, To meet the gallant Russel, in combat o'er the deep He led his noble troop of heroes bold, To sink the English Admiral and his fleet; Now every gallant mind, To victory does aspire, The bloody fight's begun, The sea is all on fire, And mighty fate stood looking on, Whilst the flood, All with blood, Fill the scuppers of the Rising Sun.

Sulphur, smoke, and fire, disturbing the air, With thunder and wonder affright the Gallic shore, Their regulated bands stood trembling near, To see their lofty streamers now no more, At six o'clock the red The smiling victors led, To give the second blow, The total overthrow. Now death and horror equal reign. Now they cry Run or die, British colours ride the vanquish'd main.

See they fly amaz'd o'er rocks and sands, One danger they grasp to shun a greater fate, In vain they cry for aid to weeping lands, The nymphs and sea-gods mourn their lost estate Forever more adieu, Thou ever-dazzling sun, From thy untimely end, Thy master's fate begun, Enough thou mighty God of war, Now we sing, Bless the King, Let us drink to every English tar.