Classic Poem

We saw, but oh! how sad were we to see,
Spaines (prouder) Fleete on the proud Ocean spred:
An hundred ships there were, and eight times three,
Which made it deem'd and nam'd unconquered.
The ancient Pilots were amaz'd to see 't,
When they beheld this new-huge-bodied fleete.
The Sea with mazed smile saw in her bounds,
All the Earths wealth and honor brought by ships,
But we all trembled at the frequent sounds
Of Trumpets, Drummes: at naked Swords and Whips
(Sore threatned) wherewith all the Spaniard fell
Came arm'd this Brittaine nation to quell.
Our hopes are in a lone-torne ship (befitted,
With fire and Brimstone as her chiefest loade)
Shee, without guide, is to the windes committed,
And forth with cruell destinie she roade;
(Them and herselfe with her own flames to spoile)
Windes ferve; she burnt herselfe, put them to foile.
Heere were we cheer'd to see the Ocean maine,
All white before with sailes, now purple growne.
As suddenly with bloud of Spainards slaine:
Their fleete is scattred, and their ships o're throwne,
Some sinke, some burne i' th' Sea, and some at last,
After long wandring, on strange shores are cast.

We saw, but oh! how glad were we to see,
O cruell Rome, out of thy darkesome den,
So many weapons of thy villanie
And mightie engines, pluckt by hands of men?
Stones, Faggots, Crowes, Gun-powder-tubs we saw,
Those wines The whore doth from her vessels draw.
Long were they hid under the secret vaulte,
Of that Great house; and there they were to lye,
Till they were made (O horrible assault!)
By wicked Faux his hand, aloft to flye.
Those sacred roomes where lawes were wont to breed,
To sudden wracke and ruine were decreed.
King, Prince, Peeres, Prelates, Commons, Gospell bright,
All at one blow together were to fall:
Match was in hand to give the traines their light,
But God reveal'd, destroy'd reveng'd them all.
Hell needes not blush: for this impiety
Doth worst of men, fiendes, furies, justifie.
Hell never knew such wickednesse as this,
Another hell, (like it) there need a'-bin.
Should plot and pay be like? for both there is
One measure: none of pay; for, none of sinne.
Should praise be like Gods grace? there is but one
Measure for both: Grace had, praise must have none!