Classic Poem

Our little fleet in July first,
Their mighty fleet did view:
She came but with a softly course,
Though winds behind her blew.
Her front much like the moon was crook'd,
(The horns seven miles asunder)
Her masts like stately towers looked,
The ocean groaning under.
And now, behold, they were at hand,
Daring our English borders,
Making full sure to bring our land
Under their Spanish orders.
But God above, laughing to scorn
Their wicked wile, and wealth,
To his annointed raised an horn
Of hope and saving health.
Prince, prophets, people, jointly cried
To Christ alone for aid;
Whose power invincible was tried
With banner all displayed.
That noble Drake drove on apace,
And made the Spaniard dive;
And Hawkins followed hard the chase
(As hawk doth covey drive).
With these, well furbished Frobisher
Their navy did assail:
All at her back did thunder her
And swept away her tail.
Those were the worthies three, which first
(Next to their Admiral)
Ventured the hostile ranks to burst
(Spite of their Don Recalde);
And many more of great renown
Did bravely play their part,
In skill and valour putting down
The Spanish strength and art.
But why do I record the men,
That fought with such as braved us?
I said, and so I say again,
It was the Lord that saved us.