All you ever wanted to know about Admiral Blake but were afraid to ask
From Firth' Naval Ballads, Printed for The Naval Records Society 1808
Jim Carroll

An Elegie on the Death of the Right Honourable Robert Blake, Esq., One of the Generals at Sea, who departedthe
7th of August, 1657, on board the George, near Plymouth Sound.

What means this silence, sirs ? what's here becom ?
Some heavy tidings sure hath struck you dumb.
Light griefs make teares distill out from the eye,
When great ones dull, and often stupifie.
What! is there none dare speak ?
Alas ! I feare It is too harsh to sound in English eare.
Must my misgiving soul divine the cause
Of your sad aspects ? Stay, for I must pause :
Is he that over Neptune once bore sway,
And 'gainst our foes did often get the day :
Is he that was to sea-men their delight,
And led them on most daringly to fight:
Is he whose face a terror strooke ; whose name
The darling was of Fortune and of Fame :
Is he that by example spent his breath,
And shew'd a new way how to out-face Death :
He that strook terror wheresoere he came,
And made his foes to tremble at his name—
Speak, is it true ? Is noble Blake then gone,
And left us here in dark oblivion ?
Is his seraphick soul then fled away,
Leaving nought but his ashes and his clay ?
Your silence seems to say so. Is he dead ?
Sure then your griefs cannot be numbered.
I see the lasting'st monuments must bend;
All things must have their period and end.
His brave example in our infant dayes
Of war, when he alone deserv'd the bayes ;
When by his virtue onely Lime held out
Against a potent foe both bold and stout.
Taunton her liberty to him doth owe,
His bounty onely did on her bestow.
Dunster, that pleasant seat, whose lofty tow'rs
E'ne peirc't the clouds, did stoop unto his pow'rs
Bridgewater gave him birth, for that fam'd more,
And honoured, then ere she was before.
His enemies did oft amaz'd stand
When he held up his sure dead-doing hand ;
And Death grew pale to see himself out-done
By one of mortall race.
The setting sun
Oft peep'd abroad, as oft did blush to see
Neptune forc't weare his sanguine livery.
Though Death did often strive him to affright
Yet he out-lookt him, made him mad with spight,
And when with open force he durst not seise him
In a consumption did at last surprise him.
His head a mint of reason was ; when he
Once spake he used no tautologie.
His arguments dilemmas were, which he
Confirm'd b' example out of history :
His own experience was so great that all
With one consent still clos'd in generall :
And for his intellectualls so rare
That few now living could with him compare.
A man that alwayes valued his word;
Bright honour ever shining on his sword :
To vice and basenesse ever most severe,
And to his friends and goodnesse very deare :
From affectation free, and, what was more,
A zealous enemy of the Scarlet Whore;
Whose able judgment in a hot dispute
Two of the stoutest champions did confute,
Deserving to be (by their own confession)
His countryes honour call'd ; twas their expression.
No charming syren could his ears entice,
Nor tempting Venus him allure to vice;
Nor Cleophis with her bewiching eyes
Ere put a period to his victories.
War was his mistris, he did her embrace ;
She hath a princely and majestick face;
She nurst him, bred him, made him her delight,
Conducted him in many a dreadful fight ;
He was her darling, she in him took pleasure,
He was her chiefest and her onely treasure.
Though threats on threats, and promises succeeded
From Royalty, yet he them never heeded.
Threats could not drive him, nor allurements high
Ere make him part with his integrity.
No sceptick in religion was he found,
His head and heart and principles were sound.
Constant beyond compare, and to his nation
A faithfull servant in his generation :
No faction would he heed, nor plots contrive,
Nor did he wish that ever they should thrive;
And midst our various changes still kept free,
Hating cold dullnesse, base neutrality.
Riches he valued not, nor them respect,
Nor glorious titles ever did affect.
Armes and the Arts did wondrously comply
In him to make a perfect harmony ;
In both admir'd, in both he did excell,
And liv'd and dy'd without a parallell.
His valour was diffused, and now dead,
He the Tenth Worthy may be reckoned
The civick, murall, and the navall crown
He has deserv'd, all due to his renown.
In peace he was a Seneca, in war
He out-did Mars, still prov'd a conqueror.
No chamber-musick squeaking in the night,
Nor noyce of vialls did him much delight;
The deep-mouth'd canons thundring in his eares
Was unto him the musick of the spheres :
Those bore the base, the whistling bullets they
Made up the treble on a fighting day ;
Small shot division play'd, whose nimble motion
Made many a soul drink up a sleepy potion :
This was the musick most did cheer his spirit,
And made him justly so much prayse to merit.
His noble, lively, active, vigorous fire
Ne're quencht in him untill he did expire.
Oh ! how my soul bemones my countryes losse,
Her onely genius gone ; oh ! 'tis a crosse
Beyond compare, now hardly felt, but when
Our sins a war on us shall bring agen,
Who then shall stand i' th' gap ?
His noble arme
Did quail our home-bred, forreign foes disarme.
May those succeed Elisha-like inherit
A double portion of Elijah's spirit.
The Hollander in bloudy lines can write
What harms he did them by the God of might;
The Portigalls, as every one doth know,
Their peace, their plenty, and their traffique owe
Unto his worth, when Rupert he was fain
To face about and get him home again ;
Loth to appear with his poor glow-worm light
When such a sun as this appear'd in sight.
The,barbarous pirates upon Tunis strand
Felt the effects of his revenging hand.
The Spaniards lately fear'd the name of Blake,
As once their children did the name of Drake,
What shall I say ? his last attempt so bold
At the Canaries, it cannot be told
Unto its worth ; that done with gallantry
He makes his exit with a plaudite;
And having done to Spaine abundant harms,
Comes home in peace and dyes free from allarms :
The George the first ship bore him out, and then
The mournfull she that brought him back agen.
Oh that some Virgil, for his greater glory,
Would please to write his everlasting story;
Or else some Homer bravely to reherse
His glorious actions in heroick verse;
For me to limne the noble act h' as done,
Is but to light a candle to the sun :
That task I'le leave to some more able hand
That view'd his action both by sea and land ;
And though in blacks I may not mourn his end,
Yet none shall more bemone him as a friend.
Or'e death he is victorious, and he
Bequeaths it us as his last legacy.
Now unto God be everlasting prayse,
That thus in peace hath finished his dayes :
And since his fatall thred is quite spun out,
Let's draw the curtains, put the candle out,
And let us leave him to his silent tomb,
Free from all troubles, clos'd up in the womb
Of Mother Earth let him in quiet rest,
Till he enjoy the choycest and the best
Of his desires, in glory for to see His Saviour Christ to all eternity.

EPITAPH ACROSTICK
R est here in peace the sacred dust
O f valiant Blake, the good, the just,
B elov'd of all on every side ;
E ngland's honour, once her pride,
R ome's terror, Dutch annoyer,
T ruth's defender, Spain's destroyer.
B ring no dry eyes unto this place :
L et not be seen in any case
A smiling or an unsad face.
K indie desires in every brest
E ternally with him to rest.

By Geo. HARRISON, Gent. On board the Dunbar in the Downs, Aug. n, 1657.