The great naval victory intended to be celebrated by this excellent old song, was determined, after a running action of several days, off Cape La Hogue, on the coast of Normandy, the 22nd of May, 1692, in favour of the English and Dutch combined fleets, consisting of 99 sail of the line, under the command of Admiral Russel, afterwards Earl of Oxford, over a French squadron. of about half that number commanded by the Chevalier Tourville, whose ship, Le Soleil Royal, carried upwards of a hundred guns, and was esteemed the finest vessel in Europe.
This last fleet was fitted out for the purpose of restoring King James II. to his dominions; and that prince, together with the Duke of Berwick, and several great officers, both of his own court and of the court of France, and even Tourville himself, beheld the final destruction of the French ships from an eminence on the shore. It is now certain that Russel had engaged to favour the scheme of his old master's restoration, on condition that the French took care to avoid him; but Tourville's impetuosity and rashness rendered the whole measure abortive. And the distressed and the ill-fated monarch retired, in a fit of despondency, to mourn his misfortunes, and recover his peace of mind, amid the solitary gloom of La Trappe.
Thursday in the morn, the ides of May-Recorded for ever the famous ninety-two,Brave Russel did discern, by dawn of day,The lofty sails of France advancing now;All hands aloft, aloft, let English valour shine,Let fly a culverin, the signal for the line,Let every hand supply the gun;Follow me,And you'll seeThat the battle will be soon begun.
Tourville on the main triumphant rolledTo meet the gallant Russel in combat on the deep;He led a noble train of heroes bold,To sink the English admiral and his fleet.Now every valiant mind to victory doth aspire,The bloody fight's begun, the sea itself on fire;And mighty Fate stood looking on;Whilst a flood,All of blood,Filled the scuppers of the Royal 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 a second blow, the fatal overthrow;Now death and horror equal reign;Now they cry,Run or die,British colours ride the vanquished main!
See they fly amazed o'er rocks and sands,One danger they grasp at to shun the greater fate;In vain they cry for aid to weeping lands:The nymphs and sea-gods mourn their lost estate;For evermore adieu, thou Royal 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.
