A ioyful new Ballad or The obtaining of the great Galleazzo

This ballad, by Thomas Delony, was entered in to Stationaer's Register on August 10, 1588. It tells the tale of the capture of the galleass commanded by Don Pedro de Valdes by the forces of Sir Francis Drake.

A ioyful new Ballad,

Declaring the happie obtaining of the great Galleazzo, wherein
Don Pedro de Valdez was the chiefe, through the mightie
power and prouidence of God, being a speciall token
of his gracious and fatherly goodnes towards vs,
to the great encouragement of all those that
willingly fight in the defence of his
gospel and our good Queene
of England

To the Tune of; Monseurs Almaigne.
O Noble England, fall downe vpon thy knee:
And praise thy God with thankfull hart which still maintaineth thee.
The forraine forces, that seekes thy vtter spoile:
Shall then through his especiall grace be brought to shamefull foile.
With mightie power they come vnto our coast:
To ouer runne our countrie quite, they make their brags and boast.
In strength of men they set their onely stay:
But we, vpon the Lord our God, will put our trust alway.

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.

Printed by Iohn Wolfe,
for Edward White


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