They spare no Hazard, or no Pain,130
But 'tis to save the Goods, and not the Men.
Within the sinking Supplaints Reach appear,
As if they'd mock their dying Fear.
Then for some Trifle all their Hopes supplant,
With Cruelty would make a Turk relent.

If I had any Satyr left to write,
Cou'd I with suited Spleen Indite,
My Verse should blast that Fatal Town,
And Drowned Saylors Widows pull it down;
No Footsteps of it should appear,140
And Ships no more Cast Anchor there.
The Barbarous Hated Name of Deal shou'd die,
Or be a Term of Infamy;
And till that's done, the Town will stand
A just Reproach to all the Land.

The Ships come next to be my Theme,
The Men's the Loss, I'm not concern'd for them;
For had they perish'd e'er they went,
Where to no Purpose they were sent,
The Ships might ha' been built again,150
And we had sav'd the Money and the Men.
There the Mighty Wrecks appear,
Hic Jacent, Useless Things of War.
Graves of Men, and Tools of State,
There you lye too soon, there you lye too late.
But O ye Mighty Ships of War!
What in Winter did you there?
Wild November should our Ships restore
To Chatham, Portsmouth, and the Nore,
So it was always heretofore,160
For Heaven it self is not unkind,
If Winter Storms he'll sometimes send,
Since 'tis suppos'd the Men of War
Are all laid up, and left secure.

Nor did our Navy feell alone,
The dreadful Desolation;
It shook the Walls of Flesh as well as Stone,
And ruffl'd all the Nation.
The Universal Fright
Made Guilty H — expect his Fatal Night;170
His harden'd Soul began to doubt,
And Storms grew high within, as they grew high without.

Flaming Meteors fill'd the Air,
But Asgil miss'd his Fiery Chariot there;
Recall'd his black blaspheming Breath,
And trembling paid his Homage unto Death.

Terror appear'd in every Face,
Even Vile Blackbourn felt some shocks of Grace;
Began to feel the Hated Truth appear,
Began to fear,180
After he had Burlesqu'd a God so long,
He should at last be in the wrong.
Some Power he plainly saw,
(And seeing, felt a strange unusual Awe;)
Some secret Hand he plainly found,
Was bringing some strange thing to pass,
And he that neither God nor Devil own'd,
Must needs be at a loss to guess.
Fain he would not ha' guest the worst,
But Guilt will always be with Terror Curst.190

Hell shook, for Devils Dread Almighty Power,
At every Shock they fear'd the Fatal Hour,
The Adamantine Pillars mov'd,
And Satan's Pandemonium trembl'd too;
The tottering Seraphs wildly rov'd,
Doubtful what the Almighty meant to do;
For in the darkest of the black Abode,
There's not a Devil but believes a God.
Old Lucifer has sometimes try'd