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Great is their number, of ships vpon the sea:
And their prouision wonderfull, but Lord thou
art our stay.
Their armed souldiers are many by account:
Their aiders eke in this attempt, doe sundrie
waies, surmount.
The Pope of Rome with many blessed graines:
To sanctify their bad pretense bestowed both
cost and paines.
But little land, is not dismaide at all:
The Lord no doubt is on our side, which soone
will worke their fall.
In happy houre, our foes we did descry:
And vnder saile with gallant winde as they cam
passing by.
Which suddaine tidings, to Plymmouth being
brought:
Full soone oure Lord high Admirall, for to pursue
them sought.
And to his traine, coragiously he said:
Now, for the Lord and our good Queene, to fight
be not afraide.
Regard our cause, and play your partes like men:
The Lord no doubt will prosper vs, in all our
actions then.
This great Galleazzo, which was so huge and hye:
That like a bulwarke on the sea, did seeme to
each mans eye.
There was it taken, vnto our great reliefe:
And diuers Nobles, in which traine Don Pietro
was the chiefe.
Stronge was she stuft, with Cannons great and
small:
And other instruments of warre, Which we obtained
all.
A certaine signe, of good successe we trust:
That God will ouerthrow the rest, as he hath
done the first.
Then did our Nauie pursue the rest amaine:
With roaring noise of Cannons great; till they
neere Callice came:
With manly courage, they followed them so fast:
Another mightie Gallion did seeme to yeeld at
last.
And in distresse, for sauegard of their liues:
A flag of truce they did hand out, with many
mournfull cries:
Which when our men, did perfectly espie:
Some little Barkes they sent to her, to board
her quietly.
But these false Spaniards, esteeming them but
weake:
When they within their danger came, their malice
forth did breake.
With charged Cannons, they laide about them then:
For to destroy those proper Barkes, and all their
valiant men.
Which when our men perceiued so to be:
Like Lions fierce they forward went, to quite
this iniurie.
And bourding them, with strong and mightie hand
:
They kild the men vntill their Arke, did sinke
in Callice sand.
The chiefest Captaine, of this Gallion so hie:
Don Huge de Moncaldo he within this fight
did die.
Who was the Generall of all the Gallions great:
But through his braines, with pouders force,
a Bullet strong did beat.
And manie more, by sword did loose their breath:
And manie more within the sea, did swimme and
tooke their death.
There might you see the salt and foming flood:
Died and staind like scarlet red, with store
of Spanish blood.
This mightie vessell, was threescore yards in
length:
Most wonderfull to each mans eie, for making
and for strength.
In her was placed, an hundreth Cannons great:
And mightily prouided eke, with bread-corne wine
and meat.
There were of Oares, two hundreth I weene:
Threescore foote and twelue in length, well measured
to be seene.
And yet subdued, with manie others more:
And not a Ship of ours lost, the Lord be thankt
therefore.
Our pleasant countrie, so fruitfull and so faire:
They doe intend by deadly warre to make both
poore and bare.
Our townes and cities, to rack and sacke likewise:
To kill and murder man and wife, as malice doth
arise.
And to deflower our virgins in our sight:
And in the cradle cruelly the tender babe to
smite.
Gods holy truth, they meane for to cast downe:
And to depnue our noble Queene, both of her life
and crowne.
Our wealth and riches, which we enioyed long
They doe appoint their pray and spoile, by crueltie
and wrong.
To set our houses a fier on our heades:
And cursedly to cut our throates, As we lye in
our beds.
Our childrens braines, to dash against the ground
And from the earth our memorie, for euer to confound.
To change our ioy, to grief and mourning sad
And neuer more to see the dayes, of pleasure
we haue had.
But God almightie be blessed euermore:
Who doth encourage Englishmen, to beate them
from our shoare.
With roaring Cannons, their hastie steps to stay:
And with the force of thundering shot to make
them flye away.
Who made account, before this time or day:
Against the walles of faire London, their
banners to display.
But their intent the Lord will bring to nought:
If faithfully we call and cry, for succour as
we ought.
And you deare bretheren, which beareth Arms this
day:
For safegarde of your natiue soile, marke well
what I shall say.
Regarde your dueties, thinke on your countries
good:
And feare not in defense thereof, to spend your
dearest bloud.
Our gracious Queene doth greete you euery one:
And saith, she will among you be, in euery bitter
storme.
Desiring you, true English harts to beare:
To God, and her, and to the land, wherein you
nursed were.
Lord God almightie, which hath the harts in hand:
Of euerie person to dispose defend this English
land.
Bless thou our Soueraigne with long and happie
life:
Indue her Councel with thy grace, and end this
mortall strife. [200]
Give to the rest, of Commons more and lesse:
Louing harts, obedient minds, and perfect faithfulnesse.
That they and we, and all with one accord:
On Sion hill may sing the praise, of our most
mightie Lord. T. D.
FINIS.
LONDON.
Printed by Iohn Wolfe,
for Edward White
1588.