The Tvvo Famous Pitcht Battels of Lypsich, and Lutzen wherein the ever-renowned Prince Gustavus the Great lived and died a Conquerour: with an Elegie upon his untimely death, composed in Heroick Verse. By John Russell |
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THE BATTELL OF LYPSICH. |
 | The Tvvo Famous Pitcht Battels of Lypsich, and Lutzen |  |
1
THE BATTELL OF LYPSICH.
Have you not heard the ever-restlesse Ocean
Beat on the shore with waves continuall motion,
Which fill our eares with sad and murm'ring tones;
Just like the dolefull sighs and hollow grones
Of thousands, that together have conjoyn'd
T' expresse the sorrows of a wounded minde,
For some disastrous Fate; perhaps the death
Of some deare Prince, untimely reav'd of breath?
They fill the troubled aire with confuse cries,
Which are resounded by the trembling skies;
Which these sad tunes so often do repeat,
That now the woodie Choristers forget
Their wonted strains, and either stand as mute,
Or to these notes their warbling voices suit,
The willing aire instructing to expresse
To humane eares soul-moving heavinesse.
Sweet Philomel now thinks upon her rape
And former wrongs; that she may fitly shape
A tune of lively sorrow, and make known
The grief of others, fully, as her own.
Beat on the shore with waves continuall motion,
Which fill our eares with sad and murm'ring tones;
Just like the dolefull sighs and hollow grones
Of thousands, that together have conjoyn'd
T' expresse the sorrows of a wounded minde,
For some disastrous Fate; perhaps the death
Of some deare Prince, untimely reav'd of breath?
2
Which are resounded by the trembling skies;
Which these sad tunes so often do repeat,
That now the woodie Choristers forget
Their wonted strains, and either stand as mute,
Or to these notes their warbling voices suit,
The willing aire instructing to expresse
To humane eares soul-moving heavinesse.
Sweet Philomel now thinks upon her rape
And former wrongs; that she may fitly shape
A tune of lively sorrow, and make known
The grief of others, fully, as her own.
Like this was that amazed time, when first
Our eares those more then frightfull rumours pierc't,
Of great Gustavus dismall Fate; with whom
All then did seem their hopes and hearts t'intombe;
And did expresse in sighs and drouping looks,
Sorrow enough t'have fill'd most spatious Books:
You might have read, in thought-discov'ring eyes,
Volumes of sad and mournfull Elegies:
While Fame doth with a thousand tongues resound
Such trembling murmures, as our hearts do wound.
Our eares those more then frightfull rumours pierc't,
Of great Gustavus dismall Fate; with whom
All then did seem their hopes and hearts t'intombe;
And did expresse in sighs and drouping looks,
Sorrow enough t'have fill'd most spatious Books:
You might have read, in thought-discov'ring eyes,
Volumes of sad and mournfull Elegies:
While Fame doth with a thousand tongues resound
Such trembling murmures, as our hearts do wound.
My fainting Soul, not able to sustain
So oft redoubled blowes, nor such dire pain,
Sunk to the ground: then over all my limbes
A frigid sweat and dewie vapour swimmes:
A Death-like sleep clos'd up my eyes; and I,
As one eternally entranc'd, did lie.
But then methoughts my Genius did appeare,
And words of comfort whispred in mine eare:
Then led my airie Spirit by the hand,
Through darksome shades, to that Inferiour Land
And Region, where Unbodied Souls reside.
There what my fancied thoughts to me descri'd,
I now prepare unto the World in verse,
By favour of the Muses, to rehearse.
Those two so bloudie Battels there I view'd,
Lypsich and Lutzen, dreadfully renew'd:
But now more furious and a greater ire
Their bloud-enraged spirits did enfire.
So oft redoubled blowes, nor such dire pain,
Sunk to the ground: then over all my limbes
A frigid sweat and dewie vapour swimmes:
A Death-like sleep clos'd up my eyes; and I,
As one eternally entranc'd, did lie.
3
And words of comfort whispred in mine eare:
Then led my airie Spirit by the hand,
Through darksome shades, to that Inferiour Land
And Region, where Unbodied Souls reside.
There what my fancied thoughts to me descri'd,
I now prepare unto the World in verse,
By favour of the Muses, to rehearse.
Those two so bloudie Battels there I view'd,
Lypsich and Lutzen, dreadfully renew'd:
But now more furious and a greater ire
Their bloud-enraged spirits did enfire.
Oh that those raptures, which then fill'd my brain,
Would burn in my impris'ned Soul again;
That I might so in vivid colours paint
Those dreadfull fights, as should make Mortals faint
With horrour and amaze, and when they reade
My Bloud-besprinkled verse, their hearts should bleed!
Would burn in my impris'ned Soul again;
That I might so in vivid colours paint
Those dreadfull fights, as should make Mortals faint
With horrour and amaze, and when they reade
My Bloud-besprinkled verse, their hearts should bleed!
Divine Melpomene, whose chiefest glorie
Consists in sounding of a Tragick storie;
Fill me with vig'rous heat, and for a while
Let thy rapt Furie guide my iron style:
Send Virgils Genius to direct my quill,
His grave Majestick vein do thou instill;
Or rather Lucans, whose so loftie rhymes
Do best befit the Genius of these times.
Consists in sounding of a Tragick storie;
Fill me with vig'rous heat, and for a while
Let thy rapt Furie guide my iron style:
Send Virgils Genius to direct my quill,
His grave Majestick vein do thou instill;
Or rather Lucans, whose so loftie rhymes
Do best befit the Genius of these times.
But oh! what sudden numnesse do I feel
To damp my boiling bloud! and now I reel,
As when an Epilepsie doth surprise
Some feeble mortall, and his senses ties:
Or, when as the Cumean Sibyls breast
Some dire Prophetick Spirit hath possest;
She madly rages, struggles all in vain
To shake away her Furie-caused pain:
She raves, she frets, she storms, and tears her hair,
Stamps with her feet, and like a Ghost doth stare:
Mean while, within her rage-distracted soul,
And troubled thoughts, discording Passions roll.
Thus am I rackt, while to my working heart
My Phansie doth such jarring thoughts impart.
For this to ev'ry Poet is enjoyn'd,
That he shall feel in his impressive minde
The reall Thoughts and Passions of all those,
Whom he in verse presumeth to disclose.
Judge what a world of discords circling runne
Within my breast, like Atomes in the Sunne,
That crosse, and meet, and meet, and crosse agen.
So many Passions of so many men,
And such repugning thoughts torment my minde,
As when two Armies have with furie joyn'd:
Rage and Revenge march first, with burning Ire:
Dread, Fears, and Terrours make them to retire:
Then Shame, and Valour, with malicious Hate,
Their reinforced Troups precipitate:
They charge them home: these break, and scatt'red flie
Unto their main Battalia, which stood nigh.
Here dire Despair was ranged, double-rankt
With Furie, and with Rashnesse strongly flankt.
These and a thousand more oppugning Phansies
Phebus in my enraged breast advances.
To damp my boiling bloud! and now I reel,
4
Some feeble mortall, and his senses ties:
Or, when as the Cumean Sibyls breast
Some dire Prophetick Spirit hath possest;
She madly rages, struggles all in vain
To shake away her Furie-caused pain:
She raves, she frets, she storms, and tears her hair,
Stamps with her feet, and like a Ghost doth stare:
Mean while, within her rage-distracted soul,
And troubled thoughts, discording Passions roll.
Thus am I rackt, while to my working heart
My Phansie doth such jarring thoughts impart.
For this to ev'ry Poet is enjoyn'd,
That he shall feel in his impressive minde
The reall Thoughts and Passions of all those,
Whom he in verse presumeth to disclose.
Judge what a world of discords circling runne
Within my breast, like Atomes in the Sunne,
That crosse, and meet, and meet, and crosse agen.
So many Passions of so many men,
And such repugning thoughts torment my minde,
As when two Armies have with furie joyn'd:
Rage and Revenge march first, with burning Ire:
Dread, Fears, and Terrours make them to retire:
Then Shame, and Valour, with malicious Hate,
Their reinforced Troups precipitate:
They charge them home: these break, and scatt'red flie
Unto their main Battalia, which stood nigh.
5
With Furie, and with Rashnesse strongly flankt.
These and a thousand more oppugning Phansies
Phebus in my enraged breast advances.
Faint not, my Muse, but with a fearlesse pace
March through the midst of Furies, and out-face
Armies of Terrours, vengefull Wrath, and Ire,
Affrightfull Death, devouring Sword, and Fire.
Shrink not at all to heare the hellish jawes
Of thundring Cannons roar with hideous noise,
Mixt with a thousand shot, that roughly teare
The tender welkin, and affright the eare.
Let not their clam'rous shouts and confuse cries,
Which seem to wound the aire, and pierce the skies,
Move thee at all: Let not the yelling noise
Of some half-murdred wights make thee to pause,
Or draw remorsefull pitie from thy heart:
Be like a Rock of stone; shrink not, nor start:
Be as regardlesse of their shrieks and grones,
As they themselves have been to others mones.
If to such tender thoughts thou yeeld'st, my Muse,
Thy Martiall Furie thou wilt quickly lose;
And none, but fearfull Mothers, then will praise
Thy soft-strain'd verse, and heart-relenting layes.
March through the midst of Furies, and out-face
Armies of Terrours, vengefull Wrath, and Ire,
Affrightfull Death, devouring Sword, and Fire.
Shrink not at all to heare the hellish jawes
Of thundring Cannons roar with hideous noise,
Mixt with a thousand shot, that roughly teare
The tender welkin, and affright the eare.
Let not their clam'rous shouts and confuse cries,
Which seem to wound the aire, and pierce the skies,
Move thee at all: Let not the yelling noise
Of some half-murdred wights make thee to pause,
Or draw remorsefull pitie from thy heart:
Be like a Rock of stone; shrink not, nor start:
Be as regardlesse of their shrieks and grones,
As they themselves have been to others mones.
If to such tender thoughts thou yeeld'st, my Muse,
Thy Martiall Furie thou wilt quickly lose;
And none, but fearfull Mothers, then will praise
Thy soft-strain'd verse, and heart-relenting layes.
But now a little breathe, my Muse, and heare
The plaints of others, sounded to thy eare.
The Nymph Germania doth her self present,
With face disfigur'd, and with robes all rent,
And sprinkled o're with bloud: her golden locks
She tears, and furiously her breast she knocks;
Then wrings her hands, lifts up her woe-sick eyes:
And thus at last to the unpitying skies
She speaks, Oh heav'ns, how long, how long shall we
The onely subject of your vengeance be;
Plagu'd with continuall warre, dire cruelties,
A thousand slaughters, and calamities;
While miscreant Ethnicks, who deride thy power,
Are undisturb'd, and flourish to this houre?
The cursed Pagans laugh, when they behold
How many miseries on us are roll'd.
The barb'rous Turk insults with spitefull scorn,
To see us Christians by our selves so torn;
And on our bodies those deep wounds to bear,
Which he so much from us himself did fear;
To see our Forces by our selves o'return'd,
Which having joyn'd, might easily have spurn'd
Him, and his Vassall Kings; and once again,
Like their dire Scourge, resistlesse Tamerlane,
Have hew'd their Armies, as a field of corn,
Which is by reaping sickles quickly shorn:
And then their Sultan, in an Iron grate
Shut, like some monstrous Beast, should curse his Fate,
And rail upon his Grand-Impostour-Prophet,
That vagabond Arabian, Mahomet:
Then, if his courage serv'd him, valiantly
He might dash out his wretched brains, and die.
Then Stampoldam (now his Imperiall seat,
That over-looks the World) with flaming heat
Enkindled once, should send such direfull smoke,
As should these Infidels for ever choak:
Then in black clouds enwrapt, the fumes should whirle them,
And Devils to the lo-west hell should hurle them.
And thou bloud-sucking Tartar, who of late
Proffredst thine aid, my wounds to aggravate;
But wert rejected by that pow'rfull King,
Who his Commission from the Heav'ns did bring,
To scourge me for the sinnes of me and mine:
Dost thou rejoyce to see the Pow'rs Divine
Inflict such rig'rous Justice on my Soil,
Whose very bowels now with torments broil,
And raging Warre; like the Sicylian Hill,
Whose vaulted caverns sulph'rie flames do fill?
Thou cursed Rover, who dost spend thy dayes
In wandring up and down a thousand wayes;
Whose cold and barren Climate fears no Warre,
Not worth the sword of any Conquerer:
Cease for to triumph o're my wofull state;
Lest at my pray'rs the Heav'ns precipitate
A vengeance on thy head, shall equallise
Warres bloudie mischief and dire cruelties;
The dreadfull Pestilence, whose pois'nous blast
Into the grave thousands at once shall cast;
Or pinching Famine, whose long lingring stroke
Shall by degrees the vitall spirits choak;
Or, what thou fearest most, some rig'rous frost
Shall seise upon thy coldly-sited coast,
And freez the very aire, that want of breath
May make you yeeld unto unsparing Death.
But why disturb I thus my wretched heart,
By wishing unto others such like smart
As I now feel? Would this give ease to me,
Or any whit abate my miserie?
It would. Oh that the All-wise Providence
Would on these Miscreants such like plagues dispense;
That they might roar with their calamities,
And with their louder clamours drown the cries
Of my distressed children, whose sad mones
Do wound my heart, and pierce the very stones!
How many thousand Mothers at this time,
Within the limits of my wretched clime,
Weep without ceasing, and with shrillest notes
And bitter exclamations tear their throats!
How many tender Widows curse their Fates,
By raging Warre robb'd of their dearest Mates!
How many aged Fathers lift their eyes
Drown'd o're with tears, to the unpitying skies,
Admiring that the fulgent Sunne displayes
On their so wretched Land his cheerfull rayes!
Is there no pitie in the heav'ns at all?
Cannot the grief of Mortals once appall
You Spirits divine, that 'bove us do reside,
And the rapt Spheres do in their courses guide?
They wonder that the rolling starres still shine,
And never at their torments do repine.
If their dire imprecations might prevail,
They would have had them muffled in a vail
Of mournfull hue, and in a pitchie cloud
Swoln bigge with tears their heav'nly lustre shroud;
That with their hearts the whole earth might agree,
And once again a confus'd Chaos be.
Who can these blame that thus excessive mone,
Who have been spoiled of more lives then one;
That in so short a time (alas!) have lost
That which so many cares and yeares hath cost?
Cease, cease, my Children: your so wofull crie
Will make my swelling heart in sunder flie.
Who can endure such shrieks as pierce my eares?
Who can, unmoved, view such flouds of teares?
I dare not upward lift my fainting eyes,
Left they descrie new woes, new miseries:
For wheresoe're I turn me to behold,
My cities are in flames and smoke enroll'd.
Huge heaps of Ruines, Warres dire Monuments,
Cruell Bellona every where presents.
The plaints of others, sounded to thy eare.
The Nymph Germania doth her self present,
With face disfigur'd, and with robes all rent,
6
She tears, and furiously her breast she knocks;
Then wrings her hands, lifts up her woe-sick eyes:
And thus at last to the unpitying skies
She speaks, Oh heav'ns, how long, how long shall we
The onely subject of your vengeance be;
Plagu'd with continuall warre, dire cruelties,
A thousand slaughters, and calamities;
While miscreant Ethnicks, who deride thy power,
Are undisturb'd, and flourish to this houre?
The cursed Pagans laugh, when they behold
How many miseries on us are roll'd.
The barb'rous Turk insults with spitefull scorn,
To see us Christians by our selves so torn;
And on our bodies those deep wounds to bear,
Which he so much from us himself did fear;
To see our Forces by our selves o'return'd,
Which having joyn'd, might easily have spurn'd
Him, and his Vassall Kings; and once again,
Like their dire Scourge, resistlesse Tamerlane,
Have hew'd their Armies, as a field of corn,
Which is by reaping sickles quickly shorn:
And then their Sultan, in an Iron grate
Shut, like some monstrous Beast, should curse his Fate,
And rail upon his Grand-Impostour-Prophet,
That vagabond Arabian, Mahomet:
Then, if his courage serv'd him, valiantly
He might dash out his wretched brains, and die.
7
That over-looks the World) with flaming heat
Enkindled once, should send such direfull smoke,
As should these Infidels for ever choak:
Then in black clouds enwrapt, the fumes should whirle them,
And Devils to the lo-west hell should hurle them.
And thou bloud-sucking Tartar, who of late
Proffredst thine aid, my wounds to aggravate;
But wert rejected by that pow'rfull King,
Who his Commission from the Heav'ns did bring,
To scourge me for the sinnes of me and mine:
Dost thou rejoyce to see the Pow'rs Divine
Inflict such rig'rous Justice on my Soil,
Whose very bowels now with torments broil,
And raging Warre; like the Sicylian Hill,
Whose vaulted caverns sulph'rie flames do fill?
Thou cursed Rover, who dost spend thy dayes
In wandring up and down a thousand wayes;
Whose cold and barren Climate fears no Warre,
Not worth the sword of any Conquerer:
Cease for to triumph o're my wofull state;
Lest at my pray'rs the Heav'ns precipitate
A vengeance on thy head, shall equallise
Warres bloudie mischief and dire cruelties;
The dreadfull Pestilence, whose pois'nous blast
Into the grave thousands at once shall cast;
Or pinching Famine, whose long lingring stroke
Shall by degrees the vitall spirits choak;
8
Shall seise upon thy coldly-sited coast,
And freez the very aire, that want of breath
May make you yeeld unto unsparing Death.
But why disturb I thus my wretched heart,
By wishing unto others such like smart
As I now feel? Would this give ease to me,
Or any whit abate my miserie?
It would. Oh that the All-wise Providence
Would on these Miscreants such like plagues dispense;
That they might roar with their calamities,
And with their louder clamours drown the cries
Of my distressed children, whose sad mones
Do wound my heart, and pierce the very stones!
How many thousand Mothers at this time,
Within the limits of my wretched clime,
Weep without ceasing, and with shrillest notes
And bitter exclamations tear their throats!
How many tender Widows curse their Fates,
By raging Warre robb'd of their dearest Mates!
How many aged Fathers lift their eyes
Drown'd o're with tears, to the unpitying skies,
Admiring that the fulgent Sunne displayes
On their so wretched Land his cheerfull rayes!
Is there no pitie in the heav'ns at all?
Cannot the grief of Mortals once appall
You Spirits divine, that 'bove us do reside,
And the rapt Spheres do in their courses guide?
9
And never at their torments do repine.
If their dire imprecations might prevail,
They would have had them muffled in a vail
Of mournfull hue, and in a pitchie cloud
Swoln bigge with tears their heav'nly lustre shroud;
That with their hearts the whole earth might agree,
And once again a confus'd Chaos be.
Who can these blame that thus excessive mone,
Who have been spoiled of more lives then one;
That in so short a time (alas!) have lost
That which so many cares and yeares hath cost?
Cease, cease, my Children: your so wofull crie
Will make my swelling heart in sunder flie.
Who can endure such shrieks as pierce my eares?
Who can, unmoved, view such flouds of teares?
I dare not upward lift my fainting eyes,
Left they descrie new woes, new miseries:
For wheresoe're I turn me to behold,
My cities are in flames and smoke enroll'd.
Huge heaps of Ruines, Warres dire Monuments,
Cruell Bellona every where presents.
All this great mischief and disastrous woe
From Rome, as from a pois'nous spring, doth flow.
And thou, proud Frier, whose ambitiousnesse
A Triple Diadem can scarce depresse;
Thrice cursed be thy deadly pride, that thus
With warres and ruines hast o'rewhelmed us.
Most flintie-breasted Tigre, that canst brook,
With heart unpitying, and unmoved look,
To see so many at thy feet to die,
And fall lower then hell, to keep thee high!
To see so many Nations choisest flowers
Cut down by sudden death, in so few houres!
And all this will not move thee to relent,
Nor winne thee to revoke thy proud intent.
Thy Predecessours Christians could enflame
With courage, to a warre of better fame:
'Gainst Saracens t' advance their warlike bands,
And to reconquer from those Pagans hands
Captiv'd Judea, and the Diadem
Of weeping and forlorn Jerusalem.
Surely these Infidels accursed Tribe
Do covertly with some rich presents bribe
Thy avarice, that by thy devilish art
Our Christian unitie thou mightst dispart.
Time will descrie the truth, and Heav'ns just Power
Will on thy head (I hope) just vengeance showre.
Here, with a sigh, as if her soul were prest
To flie away, her mournfull speech she ceas'd.
From Rome, as from a pois'nous spring, doth flow.
And thou, proud Frier, whose ambitiousnesse
A Triple Diadem can scarce depresse;
Thrice cursed be thy deadly pride, that thus
With warres and ruines hast o'rewhelmed us.
10
With heart unpitying, and unmoved look,
To see so many at thy feet to die,
And fall lower then hell, to keep thee high!
To see so many Nations choisest flowers
Cut down by sudden death, in so few houres!
And all this will not move thee to relent,
Nor winne thee to revoke thy proud intent.
Thy Predecessours Christians could enflame
With courage, to a warre of better fame:
'Gainst Saracens t' advance their warlike bands,
And to reconquer from those Pagans hands
Captiv'd Judea, and the Diadem
Of weeping and forlorn Jerusalem.
Surely these Infidels accursed Tribe
Do covertly with some rich presents bribe
Thy avarice, that by thy devilish art
Our Christian unitie thou mightst dispart.
Time will descrie the truth, and Heav'ns just Power
Will on thy head (I hope) just vengeance showre.
Here, with a sigh, as if her soul were prest
To flie away, her mournfull speech she ceas'd.
Then did I turn mine eyes about, to see
Whose part was next in this sad Tragedie.
LYPSICH, that fatall town, did then appeare,
Whose walls & tow'rs trembled, methoughts, with fear,
As if some aguish earthquake now did strive
Her very bowels piece-meal for to rive.
Surely there was just cause of horrid fear,
So many Furies being now so neare,
Who threatned had to trample under feet
All that their armed Rage could finde or meet.
Whose part was next in this sad Tragedie.
LYPSICH, that fatall town, did then appeare,
Whose walls & tow'rs trembled, methoughts, with fear,
As if some aguish earthquake now did strive
Her very bowels piece-meal for to rive.
11
So many Furies being now so neare,
Who threatned had to trample under feet
All that their armed Rage could finde or meet.
Upon a spatious plain, that did present
Unto the eye a smooth and large extent,
Two Armies stood, marshall'd in fair aray,
Their waving Colours to the winde display:
Their well-contrived Ranks yet even were,
Their Files compleatly straight, their Battels square:
Their equall spears, their weapons glistring bright
Did yeeld, methoughts, a dreadfull-pleasing sight.
Unto the eye a smooth and large extent,
Two Armies stood, marshall'd in fair aray,
Their waving Colours to the winde display:
Their well-contrived Ranks yet even were,
Their Files compleatly straight, their Battels square:
Their equall spears, their weapons glistring bright
Did yeeld, methoughts, a dreadfull-pleasing sight.
Here the Renowned Great GUSTAVUS stands,
Strongly environ'd with those warlike Bands,
Which the cold Region of the North had sent,
And unto them such hardned bodies lent,
As, like the roughnesse of their native Soil,
Cannot be broken with laborious toil.
The big-bon'd Lappians, who with nimble pace
The swiftest and the wildest beasts can chase:
Whose precious skinnes and furres of richest price
They send abroad for rarest merchandise.
The Finlanders were there, who, clad in buffe,
Did think their sturdie limbes arm'd proof enough:
Better to wound their foes they were prepar'd,
Then to defend, or stand upon their guard.
The warlike Goths, once of renowned Fame,
Whose Ancestours with fire and sword did tame
Great Rome it self, and her usurped crown
Snatcht from her head, and proudly trampled down;
Making her fields to drink the bloud that flow'd
From her own children, who in heaps were strow'd
Upon the crimson-stained ground. Their steel
The sunne-burnt Spaniards too did deadly feel:
Within whose barren and scorcht Territorie,
There still remain some Ensignes of their glorie.
Here were they now, and seemed to reclaim
Their Predecessours long-obscured Fame.
And here were troups of Vandals seen, that made
The Ancient World ev'n of their Name afraid;
And had as many Kingdomes over-runne
Almost, as doth the all-incircling Sunne.
Those that inhabit neare the Dofrine Hills,
From whose cold tops the snow continuall drills,
Had to this Battell sent an armed Troup,
That scorn'd at dangers once to shrink or stoup.
The duskie-colour'd Swethes stood next their King,
Who now had made their wondred Name to ring
Through farthest Regions, which so long a time
Had seem'd congealed with their frozen clime.
Here likewise might you other Nations finde,
Drawn by the vigour of a Martiall minde:
Irish, French, English, and the hardie Scot,
Whose noted valour ne're will be forgot.
There likewise were the German-Saxons seen,
Who heretofore asmuch renown'd had been,
As th' ancient Goths, or the advent'rous Gaul,
That did so oft the Romane Hosts appall.
Such was their number, that ev'n they alone
As a full Armie might themselves have shown.
Strongly environ'd with those warlike Bands,
Which the cold Region of the North had sent,
And unto them such hardned bodies lent,
As, like the roughnesse of their native Soil,
Cannot be broken with laborious toil.
The big-bon'd Lappians, who with nimble pace
The swiftest and the wildest beasts can chase:
Whose precious skinnes and furres of richest price
They send abroad for rarest merchandise.
The Finlanders were there, who, clad in buffe,
Did think their sturdie limbes arm'd proof enough:
Better to wound their foes they were prepar'd,
Then to defend, or stand upon their guard.
The warlike Goths, once of renowned Fame,
Whose Ancestours with fire and sword did tame
12
Snatcht from her head, and proudly trampled down;
Making her fields to drink the bloud that flow'd
From her own children, who in heaps were strow'd
Upon the crimson-stained ground. Their steel
The sunne-burnt Spaniards too did deadly feel:
Within whose barren and scorcht Territorie,
There still remain some Ensignes of their glorie.
Here were they now, and seemed to reclaim
Their Predecessours long-obscured Fame.
And here were troups of Vandals seen, that made
The Ancient World ev'n of their Name afraid;
And had as many Kingdomes over-runne
Almost, as doth the all-incircling Sunne.
Those that inhabit neare the Dofrine Hills,
From whose cold tops the snow continuall drills,
Had to this Battell sent an armed Troup,
That scorn'd at dangers once to shrink or stoup.
The duskie-colour'd Swethes stood next their King,
Who now had made their wondred Name to ring
Through farthest Regions, which so long a time
Had seem'd congealed with their frozen clime.
Here likewise might you other Nations finde,
Drawn by the vigour of a Martiall minde:
Irish, French, English, and the hardie Scot,
Whose noted valour ne're will be forgot.
There likewise were the German-Saxons seen,
Who heretofore asmuch renown'd had been,
13
That did so oft the Romane Hosts appall.
Such was their number, that ev'n they alone
As a full Armie might themselves have shown.
Oppos'd to these, an Armie as compleat
For fair proportion, and full out as great,
Presents its dreadfull Front, that seem'd to breathe
Nought lesse then ruines, wounds, and speedie death.
Tillie, whom long experience in the warre
Had often taught to be a Conquerer,
Did range these Troups; and, as he thought, so right,
And in so firm a posture, that they might
With ease o'recome their undervalu'd Foes,
Who now were marching on to meet their blowes.
For fair proportion, and full out as great,
Presents its dreadfull Front, that seem'd to breathe
Nought lesse then ruines, wounds, and speedie death.
Tillie, whom long experience in the warre
Had often taught to be a Conquerer,
Did range these Troups; and, as he thought, so right,
And in so firm a posture, that they might
With ease o'recome their undervalu'd Foes,
Who now were marching on to meet their blowes.
'T was vain with long orations to delay
Their burning courage, which could brook no stay.
Like two vast Woods, whose waving tops do dance
With gentle windes, these mightie Hosts advance.
The very lustre that their arms did cast,
Would have a coward kill'd with lightning blast:
But to a Souldiers eye not any fight
Could be presented, that would more delight
His loftie sprite. And look how Sols bright beams,
By art redoubled, kindle burning streams:
So the refracted rayes of fulgent steel
Make Souldiers hearts new burning courage feel.
Scarce can the fierie Steeds endure the ground,
Now that they heare the echoing Trumpet found:
They champ their curbing bits, and proudly neigh,
Vext that their masters do their Furie stay.
The Footmen fain would double their flow pace,
But that they fear their order to displace.
Their burning courage, which could brook no stay.
Like two vast Woods, whose waving tops do dance
With gentle windes, these mightie Hosts advance.
The very lustre that their arms did cast,
Would have a coward kill'd with lightning blast:
But to a Souldiers eye not any fight
Could be presented, that would more delight
His loftie sprite. And look how Sols bright beams,
By art redoubled, kindle burning streams:
So the refracted rayes of fulgent steel
Make Souldiers hearts new burning courage feel.
Scarce can the fierie Steeds endure the ground,
Now that they heare the echoing Trumpet found:
14
Vext that their masters do their Furie stay.
The Footmen fain would double their flow pace,
But that they fear their order to displace.
Now is the Signall given: with a shout
As loud as thunder, all the warlike Rout
Do make the aire and fields adjacent ring.
Then to a charged Cannon Swethlands King
Gave fire: straight doth the swift-wing'd bullet flie
Unto their foes with a rough Embassie;
And in so high a tone delivers it,
As might so great a King as him befit;
Speaking like awfull thunder, whose dread found
Our eares amazes, and our hearts doth wound.
To second this, were other bullets sent
From fired Cannons, that so rudely rent
The first front of their Battell, that you might
See their fair order now dismangled quite:
And like a confus'd heap it doth appeare,
Till resuppli'd by the advancing Rear.
Th' Imperials are not slack, but roundly they
With answ'ring shot their former losse repay:
A Rank of Cannons, all at once enfir'd,
Did presently attain their mark desir'd.
The angrie Swethes their hellish furie feel,
Whose rough encounter made them more then reel;
It makes a spatious breach, and the weak wall
Of bodies batt'red piece-meal now doth fall
In ruin'd heaps, and with a crimson juice,
That like a torrent flow'd, the ground embrews.
As loud as thunder, all the warlike Rout
Do make the aire and fields adjacent ring.
Then to a charged Cannon Swethlands King
Gave fire: straight doth the swift-wing'd bullet flie
Unto their foes with a rough Embassie;
And in so high a tone delivers it,
As might so great a King as him befit;
Speaking like awfull thunder, whose dread found
Our eares amazes, and our hearts doth wound.
To second this, were other bullets sent
From fired Cannons, that so rudely rent
The first front of their Battell, that you might
See their fair order now dismangled quite:
And like a confus'd heap it doth appeare,
Till resuppli'd by the advancing Rear.
Th' Imperials are not slack, but roundly they
With answ'ring shot their former losse repay:
A Rank of Cannons, all at once enfir'd,
Did presently attain their mark desir'd.
The angrie Swethes their hellish furie feel,
Whose rough encounter made them more then reel;
It makes a spatious breach, and the weak wall
Of bodies batt'red piece-meal now doth fall
15
That like a torrent flow'd, the ground embrews.
Help me, my tragick Muse, infuse new strains,
And re-infire my quite amazed Brains.
Methinks I feel my vigour to relent,
Stricken with horrour and astonishment,
To think upon those direfull slaughters, when
Those hellish Engines did so many men
Dismangle in a trice, and with a blast
Their noble souls from their stout bodies cast.
Here a brave Captain, as he fairly stands,
With words encouraging his warlike Bands,
His head snatcht off among them flies, and there
Speaks in a language now of dread and fear.
Here, as another waves his sword on high,
To dare his foe, a fierie Ball doth flie
Full in his face, and makes him with a dash
With his own sword himself in sunder slash.
There stood another, who enrag'd did breathe
Against his Foes revengefull threats of death:
But as his words yet in the aire did flie,
A double Cannon makes a loud replie,
And with a greater anger farre did strive
His words again into his throat to drive:
What he in vain had threatned to his Foes,
Makes his own Souldiers feel by reverst blowes:
His shiv'red skull and arms all shatt'red flew
Backward, and some that stood too neare him flew.
Here one, whom some great shot affrighted, shrunk;
But all in vain: upon his armed trunk
The swift-wing'd Bullet lights; and from his heart,
With fear and wounds, his soul at once doth start.
A rank of Brothers and neare friends here stood,
Never more true then now alli'd in bloud,
Rent by the furie of two Culverings,
That arms from shoulders, heads from bodies flings;
Then altogether mixt them in a Masse,
And with their Limbes strowes the discolour'd grasse.
Some Demicannons 'mong a troup of Horse
Did likewise shew their cruel murd'ring force.
Their Iron Cuirace was of small avail:
Corslets of Steel and Coats of well-wrought Mail
Could not divert the furie of such strokes,
As would have stricken down the tallest oaks,
That in the Caledonian woods are found,
Or spread their roots in the Hercinian ground.
Some Riders wounded are, while th'untoucht Horse,
Feeling his reins now slack, with all his force
Kicks, flings, and starts untill his Master reels;
Then, most ingratefull, spurns him with his heels.
Sometime the terrour of the shot doth light
Upon the Horse; the Rider scapes not quite:
For though the bullet spare him, yet his Steed
Ne're rests, till of his troubling burden freed:
Then casts him on the clotted sand, and straight
Beginning for to sink, with all his weight,
O're him that erst he bore he now falls over,
And him that rid him once he now doth cover:
To him his back afforded once a room,
And now his bodie makes for him a tombe.
And re-infire my quite amazed Brains.
Methinks I feel my vigour to relent,
Stricken with horrour and astonishment,
To think upon those direfull slaughters, when
Those hellish Engines did so many men
Dismangle in a trice, and with a blast
Their noble souls from their stout bodies cast.
Here a brave Captain, as he fairly stands,
With words encouraging his warlike Bands,
His head snatcht off among them flies, and there
Speaks in a language now of dread and fear.
Here, as another waves his sword on high,
To dare his foe, a fierie Ball doth flie
Full in his face, and makes him with a dash
With his own sword himself in sunder slash.
There stood another, who enrag'd did breathe
Against his Foes revengefull threats of death:
But as his words yet in the aire did flie,
A double Cannon makes a loud replie,
And with a greater anger farre did strive
His words again into his throat to drive:
What he in vain had threatned to his Foes,
Makes his own Souldiers feel by reverst blowes:
His shiv'red skull and arms all shatt'red flew
Backward, and some that stood too neare him flew.
16
But all in vain: upon his armed trunk
The swift-wing'd Bullet lights; and from his heart,
With fear and wounds, his soul at once doth start.
A rank of Brothers and neare friends here stood,
Never more true then now alli'd in bloud,
Rent by the furie of two Culverings,
That arms from shoulders, heads from bodies flings;
Then altogether mixt them in a Masse,
And with their Limbes strowes the discolour'd grasse.
Some Demicannons 'mong a troup of Horse
Did likewise shew their cruel murd'ring force.
Their Iron Cuirace was of small avail:
Corslets of Steel and Coats of well-wrought Mail
Could not divert the furie of such strokes,
As would have stricken down the tallest oaks,
That in the Caledonian woods are found,
Or spread their roots in the Hercinian ground.
Some Riders wounded are, while th'untoucht Horse,
Feeling his reins now slack, with all his force
Kicks, flings, and starts untill his Master reels;
Then, most ingratefull, spurns him with his heels.
Sometime the terrour of the shot doth light
Upon the Horse; the Rider scapes not quite:
For though the bullet spare him, yet his Steed
Ne're rests, till of his troubling burden freed:
Then casts him on the clotted sand, and straight
Beginning for to sink, with all his weight,
17
And him that rid him once he now doth cover:
To him his back afforded once a room,
And now his bodie makes for him a tombe.
Brave Sp'rits, but too (alas!) unfortunate,
How doth my Muse lament your unfit Fate,
Snatcht by those dev'lish Engines fierie force,
That murders without mercie or remorse;
That cut you off at one disastrous blow,
Ere that you could your fearlesse faces show
Unto your Enemies, and make them feel
Some mortall strokes from your sharp-edged steel!
How doth my Muse lament your unfit Fate,
Snatcht by those dev'lish Engines fierie force,
That murders without mercie or remorse;
That cut you off at one disastrous blow,
Ere that you could your fearlesse faces show
Unto your Enemies, and make them feel
Some mortall strokes from your sharp-edged steel!
Curst be that Hell-sprung wit, that did devise
This fierie Engine, whose dire Batteries
Scorn all resisting force that can be tri'd,
And most approved valour do deride;
That humane bodies rend like fields of corn,
Which by the cutting sithe are quickly shorn;
Not so content, but all-dismangled dash them,
And in a thousand confus'd pieces pash them:
Here making one, with his disshatt'red Head
His best and dearest friend to strike stark dead.
This fierie Engine, whose dire Batteries
Scorn all resisting force that can be tri'd,
And most approved valour do deride;
That humane bodies rend like fields of corn,
Which by the cutting sithe are quickly shorn;
Not so content, but all-dismangled dash them,
And in a thousand confus'd pieces pash them:
Here making one, with his disshatt'red Head
His best and dearest friend to strike stark dead.
Renowned Archimede of Syracuse,
Who by an Engine of thine own didst bruise
Thousands of foes at once; when from a Tower
Whole loads of stones upon their heads did showre:
Thy rare invention now may seem a toy,
Compar'd with this, which doth farre more destroy
At further distance; and, like dreadfull thunder,
Hath often killed some with fear and wonder.
But thee posteritie shall ever praise,
Because thy new device thou didst not blaze
To after-times; but didst at first intend
That with thy life the same should have an end.
But now against that more then hated Name,
From whom this sulphurie invention came,
Let ev'ry Age their furie so enlarge,
As volleys of dire curses to discharge:
Let brimstone burn his odious brains; let smoke
His very memorie for ever choak.
Who by an Engine of thine own didst bruise
Thousands of foes at once; when from a Tower
Whole loads of stones upon their heads did showre:
Thy rare invention now may seem a toy,
Compar'd with this, which doth farre more destroy
18
Hath often killed some with fear and wonder.
But thee posteritie shall ever praise,
Because thy new device thou didst not blaze
To after-times; but didst at first intend
That with thy life the same should have an end.
But now against that more then hated Name,
From whom this sulphurie invention came,
Let ev'ry Age their furie so enlarge,
As volleys of dire curses to discharge:
Let brimstone burn his odious brains; let smoke
His very memorie for ever choak.
By this time did the Armies nearer preasse:
The thundring Cannons for a while did cease,
And gave permission to th' enraged bands
To trie the vigour of their eager hands.
Then both at once impetuously do rush,
And 'gainst each other fiercely counterpush:
As when two Seas against each other roam,
And break their billowes into spatt'red foam;
Making the aire to tremble, and the shore
With dreadfull sounds and frequent Echoes roar:
Such was the noise, when these two Hosts did close,
And made the aire to ring with strokes and blowes.
Now Pistols, Musquers, and Caliver play:
Through fire and smoke they finde themselves a way.
No shot falls now amisse: in this close fight,
The random-guided Bullets surely light,
And drench themselves in bloud: no armour here
Can stop their force, which is by much too neare.
The thundring Cannons for a while did cease,
And gave permission to th' enraged bands
To trie the vigour of their eager hands.
Then both at once impetuously do rush,
And 'gainst each other fiercely counterpush:
As when two Seas against each other roam,
And break their billowes into spatt'red foam;
Making the aire to tremble, and the shore
With dreadfull sounds and frequent Echoes roar:
Such was the noise, when these two Hosts did close,
And made the aire to ring with strokes and blowes.
Now Pistols, Musquers, and Caliver play:
Through fire and smoke they finde themselves a way.
No shot falls now amisse: in this close fight,
The random-guided Bullets surely light,
19
Can stop their force, which is by much too neare.
Now forward on the close-rankt Pikes advance
With steadie arm, and fearlesse countenance,
Shaking their pointed spears, which in the breast
Of their encountring foes do quickly rest.
Here was true Furie seen and val'rous Spight;
To which if you compare the other fight,
It well might seem but Sport, or Play at most:
When as the shot at distance doth accoast
The unseen Foe, and as it were by chance,
Guided at randome, at the mark doth glance:
While fierie flashes and thick clouds of smoke
Do blinde their eyes, and the pure aire do choak;
Preventing them from seeing of their foe,
And who it was that gave their mortall blow.
Nor here can any one with shining blade
Revenge the death of his slain Camerade:
But all their vengefull splene they do at large,
And at adventure, in the aire discharge.
But 'mong the sturdie Pikes 'twas otherwise:
Their Furie is directed by their eyes:
And at the sight of their enraged foe,
Redoubled courage in their hearts did slow.
Here were two Captains met; with pike and targe,
Like furious Rammes, they do each other charge;
Till at the last the thorough-piercing steel
Made one of them begin to faint and reel:
His valour doth outlive his strength; for so,
When now he cannot wound his conqu'ring foe,
Forward he falls; that he may ne're be found
To have shrunk back, or yeelded any ground.
Then being down, threatnings in vain doth breathe;
Calls on his souldiers to revenge his death:
Who, fir'd with shame and rage, with one joynt push
The short-surviving Conquerer o'rerush.
He falls upon his foe, whom but of late
With steadie spear his arm did penetrate.
Now with loud shouts and vengefull cries, they rear
Their angrie spirits farre above all fear:
Full on the points of spears they forward runne:
There is not one that wounds or death doth shunne.
Now had they rais'd within a little while,
Over these Chieftains corps a fun'rall pile
Of slaughtred bodies: For it seem'd they meant
Their Captains should not want a Monument.
With steadie arm, and fearlesse countenance,
Shaking their pointed spears, which in the breast
Of their encountring foes do quickly rest.
Here was true Furie seen and val'rous Spight;
To which if you compare the other fight,
It well might seem but Sport, or Play at most:
When as the shot at distance doth accoast
The unseen Foe, and as it were by chance,
Guided at randome, at the mark doth glance:
While fierie flashes and thick clouds of smoke
Do blinde their eyes, and the pure aire do choak;
Preventing them from seeing of their foe,
And who it was that gave their mortall blow.
Nor here can any one with shining blade
Revenge the death of his slain Camerade:
But all their vengefull splene they do at large,
And at adventure, in the aire discharge.
But 'mong the sturdie Pikes 'twas otherwise:
Their Furie is directed by their eyes:
And at the sight of their enraged foe,
Redoubled courage in their hearts did slow.
Here were two Captains met; with pike and targe,
Like furious Rammes, they do each other charge;
Till at the last the thorough-piercing steel
Made one of them begin to faint and reel:
20
When now he cannot wound his conqu'ring foe,
Forward he falls; that he may ne're be found
To have shrunk back, or yeelded any ground.
Then being down, threatnings in vain doth breathe;
Calls on his souldiers to revenge his death:
Who, fir'd with shame and rage, with one joynt push
The short-surviving Conquerer o'rerush.
He falls upon his foe, whom but of late
With steadie spear his arm did penetrate.
Now with loud shouts and vengefull cries, they rear
Their angrie spirits farre above all fear:
Full on the points of spears they forward runne:
There is not one that wounds or death doth shunne.
Now had they rais'd within a little while,
Over these Chieftains corps a fun'rall pile
Of slaughtred bodies: For it seem'd they meant
Their Captains should not want a Monument.
Two brave Conductours here brought on their bands,
To trie the vigour of their hearts and hands.
The valour of their souldiers they excite
Not now with words, but with exampled fight.
Had you but seen two Bulls in furie meet,
Spurning the yellow sand with angrie feet;
And forward then with headlong force to rush,
Till that their horns do make the bloud to gush
From many wounds, and their black-speckled Hide
By this be with another colour di'd:
Then might you have conjectur'd, with what spight
And burning rage these two brave Souldiers fight.
This on his sword relies, with it doth hew
And nimbly cut the others spear in two.
But he as lightly from his side doth snatch
A readie pistoll, which did over-match
His neare-hand-threatning sword, and in a trice
Quite through his breast the fire-sent bullet flies.
See! here another with his stretcht-out pike
Quite through the bodie of his foe doth strike:
But ere he back again the same could pluck,
He with another through the heart is struck.
And now his vanquisht foe with joyfull eye
Beholds his Victour on the ground to lie.
There might you see a noble-courag'd Swethe
Advance himself without all fear of death:
His furious ire made him alone intend
To kill and would, not caring to defend.
A big-bon'd Germane meets him at the point,
And with their spears they rush so equall joint,
That both at once were wounded, both withall
Began to sink, and both at once did fall.
To trie the vigour of their hearts and hands.
The valour of their souldiers they excite
Not now with words, but with exampled fight.
Had you but seen two Bulls in furie meet,
Spurning the yellow sand with angrie feet;
And forward then with headlong force to rush,
Till that their horns do make the bloud to gush
From many wounds, and their black-speckled Hide
By this be with another colour di'd:
21
And burning rage these two brave Souldiers fight.
This on his sword relies, with it doth hew
And nimbly cut the others spear in two.
But he as lightly from his side doth snatch
A readie pistoll, which did over-match
His neare-hand-threatning sword, and in a trice
Quite through his breast the fire-sent bullet flies.
See! here another with his stretcht-out pike
Quite through the bodie of his foe doth strike:
But ere he back again the same could pluck,
He with another through the heart is struck.
And now his vanquisht foe with joyfull eye
Beholds his Victour on the ground to lie.
There might you see a noble-courag'd Swethe
Advance himself without all fear of death:
His furious ire made him alone intend
To kill and would, not caring to defend.
A big-bon'd Germane meets him at the point,
And with their spears they rush so equall joint,
That both at once were wounded, both withall
Began to sink, and both at once did fall.
Not farre from hence you might have seen a crew
Of sturdie lads, that thrust, and hack, and hew.
An Ensigne they had slain; but could not yet
Into their hands his waving colours get.
Oft had they stoupt to take them from the ground:
But from their foes such hindrance still they found,
Who doubled on their heads such frequent blowes,
That look who stoupt, again he never rose.
Of sturdie lads, that thrust, and hack, and hew.
An Ensigne they had slain; but could not yet
Into their hands his waving colours get.
Oft had they stoupt to take them from the ground:
But from their foes such hindrance still they found,
22
That look who stoupt, again he never rose.
Now was the furie of the fight grown hot,
The aire resounded with their frequent shot.
Fair Victorie on both their Hosts doth gaze,
And doth behold their courage with amaze:
Now these observes, then those again beheld;
Knowes not as yet to which her self to yeeld:
Like to some novice Virgin, whom a Crew
Of am'rous Youths with eager suits pursue;
Her minde from fixing for a while she drawes,
And yet delights on ev'ry one to pause;
Denies not any, yeeldeth unto none:
To all alike her equall love is shown.
Have you not seen a field of yellow wheat,
Upon whose tops some gentle windes do beat.
They seem to bend, and backward for a while,
Compell'd by force, they orderly recoil:
Then reassuming vigour, with a blast
They bend themselves forward again in haste:
Such was the manner of these warlike Forces,
Who seem'd to charge with interchanging courses.
Now forward rusht the Swethlanders: anon
They back retire: th Imperialists come on,
And with such furie charge them, as if they
At that encounter would have wonne the day.
But finding good resistance, this their heat
Is quickly cool'd, and backward they retreat.
The Swethes and Almains now with doubled might
Renew the vigour of this bloudie fight;
March o're the bellies of their slaughtred foes,
And strictly preasse them with unsparing blowes.
But here a Regiment, in this their Rage,
Fearing themselves too farre for to engage
Among their circling enemies, did sound
A fair retreat, and yeeld their conqu'red ground.
Thus did the well-experienc'd Swethes, who knew
When to retire, and when they might pursue.
They did not their rough charges here perform,
Like to the rage of some unguided storm;
Or like the furie of an headlesse, rude,
Confused, and disord'red multitude:
But as one bodie, with so many hands
Move all at once, obeying the commands
Of one Conductour, who, ev'n as a Soul,
These Organs doth direct, guide, and controll.
It is not Furie, nor a fearlesse Heart,
That winnes the day; but Valour mixt with Art.
This did the Saxons finde, who now begun
Disorderly to waver, and to shunne
The rage of their approaching foe, who farre
Did them excell in discipline of warre;
And had in often combatings and fights
Learn'd many Martiall Stratagems and slights.
The aire resounded with their frequent shot.
Fair Victorie on both their Hosts doth gaze,
And doth behold their courage with amaze:
Now these observes, then those again beheld;
Knowes not as yet to which her self to yeeld:
Like to some novice Virgin, whom a Crew
Of am'rous Youths with eager suits pursue;
Her minde from fixing for a while she drawes,
And yet delights on ev'ry one to pause;
Denies not any, yeeldeth unto none:
To all alike her equall love is shown.
Have you not seen a field of yellow wheat,
Upon whose tops some gentle windes do beat.
They seem to bend, and backward for a while,
Compell'd by force, they orderly recoil:
Then reassuming vigour, with a blast
They bend themselves forward again in haste:
Such was the manner of these warlike Forces,
Who seem'd to charge with interchanging courses.
Now forward rusht the Swethlanders: anon
They back retire: th Imperialists come on,
And with such furie charge them, as if they
At that encounter would have wonne the day.
But finding good resistance, this their heat
Is quickly cool'd, and backward they retreat.
23
Renew the vigour of this bloudie fight;
March o're the bellies of their slaughtred foes,
And strictly preasse them with unsparing blowes.
But here a Regiment, in this their Rage,
Fearing themselves too farre for to engage
Among their circling enemies, did sound
A fair retreat, and yeeld their conqu'red ground.
Thus did the well-experienc'd Swethes, who knew
When to retire, and when they might pursue.
They did not their rough charges here perform,
Like to the rage of some unguided storm;
Or like the furie of an headlesse, rude,
Confused, and disord'red multitude:
But as one bodie, with so many hands
Move all at once, obeying the commands
Of one Conductour, who, ev'n as a Soul,
These Organs doth direct, guide, and controll.
It is not Furie, nor a fearlesse Heart,
That winnes the day; but Valour mixt with Art.
This did the Saxons finde, who now begun
Disorderly to waver, and to shunne
The rage of their approaching foe, who farre
Did them excell in discipline of warre;
And had in often combatings and fights
Learn'd many Martiall Stratagems and slights.
Long did the Saxon Troups stiffely sustain
Their rough encounter, and a while maintain
The Conquest doubtfull. Their dismangled bands
They fill again with other fighting hands;
Advancing forward with a fearlesse face,
Each striving to defend his fellows place,
Who at his feet did now half-murdred lie,
Staining the verdant grasse with crimson die.
But still their foes prest on, who too well knew
The least advantage gained to pursue.
Then did they stagger, and scarce willing are
Their shatt'red ranks and order to repair;
But flying back in heaps, by force and fear
They break the ranges of their troups in Rear.
Words now and threatnings are of small avail:
Their Duke himself could not as then prevail
With fair entreatings, nor with rough commands,
To stay the flight of his disscatt'red bands.
Their rough encounter, and a while maintain
24
They fill again with other fighting hands;
Advancing forward with a fearlesse face,
Each striving to defend his fellows place,
Who at his feet did now half-murdred lie,
Staining the verdant grasse with crimson die.
But still their foes prest on, who too well knew
The least advantage gained to pursue.
Then did they stagger, and scarce willing are
Their shatt'red ranks and order to repair;
But flying back in heaps, by force and fear
They break the ranges of their troups in Rear.
Words now and threatnings are of small avail:
Their Duke himself could not as then prevail
With fair entreatings, nor with rough commands,
To stay the flight of his disscatt'red bands.
Where flie you Cowards? Think you thus to shunne
The slaughtring sword? You cannot sure out-runne
The nimble horse, who now without all trouble
Will cut you off, and tread you down like stubble.
Turn, turn again; once more your forces trie:
Stand to your arms; this is the way to flie
From threatning dangers. Boldly your breasts oppose,
And not your backs to your encountring foes.
See! the brave Swethes still fairly stand in range,
Nor yet for fear or dread will breake or change.
Shall we forsake them, that have come thus farre
To undertake for us this dang'rous warre?
The world will brand us with eternall shame,
And after-Ages will deride our Name.
The slaughtring sword? You cannot sure out-runne
The nimble horse, who now without all trouble
Will cut you off, and tread you down like stubble.
Turn, turn again; once more your forces trie:
Stand to your arms; this is the way to flie
From threatning dangers. Boldly your breasts oppose,
And not your backs to your encountring foes.
See! the brave Swethes still fairly stand in range,
Nor yet for fear or dread will breake or change.
Shall we forsake them, that have come thus farre
To undertake for us this dang'rous warre?
25
And after-Ages will deride our Name.
Fear made them deaf; and now their Princes words
Are drown'd with noise of shot and clatt'ring swords.
They flie in heaps and quite disord'red ranks,
Like to some floud that hath born down his banks.
Are drown'd with noise of shot and clatt'ring swords.
They flie in heaps and quite disord'red ranks,
Like to some floud that hath born down his banks.
Tillie rejoycing at so wisht a fight,
Beholding half his enemies in flight,
Spake thus insulting; Courage, heartie Blades,
My noble Souldiers, and brave Camerades:
The day is ours: let these base Cowards flie,
And now let us these other squadrons plie;
The sturdie Swethes, whose Kings victorious Name
Keeps them from flying, with a forced shame:
But charge them home, and with unsparing hands
Rush boldly on their now half-stagg'ring Bands.
This having said, he, with a sp'rit as high
As these his words, among his foes doth flie;
Who him receive with courage nothing lesse,
But with a greater ire his rage represse:
As when the angrie Ocean with a shock
Strives for to break some firmly fixed rock,
Which stands unmoved, and his swelling pride
And vain-spent Malice seemeth to deride;
Making his waves, which did so rashly roam,
To dash themselves into a spatt'red foam:
Thus was the Crabats furie broke in sunder,
Who fell upon the Swedish troups like thunder.
And their brave Gen'rall, who had thought his sight
Sufficient was his enemies to fright,
Scap'd not unwounded: for the leaden showre
Fear'd not at all his mortall-feared Power;
Though it be still unknown, from whose hand came
The force that wounded so renown'd a Name.
'Tis not a single wound that can restrain
Or check his valour; but enrag'd again
With doubled furie, he assails his foes,
Who will not yeeld him any thing but blowes.
Beholding half his enemies in flight,
Spake thus insulting; Courage, heartie Blades,
My noble Souldiers, and brave Camerades:
The day is ours: let these base Cowards flie,
And now let us these other squadrons plie;
The sturdie Swethes, whose Kings victorious Name
Keeps them from flying, with a forced shame:
But charge them home, and with unsparing hands
Rush boldly on their now half-stagg'ring Bands.
This having said, he, with a sp'rit as high
As these his words, among his foes doth flie;
Who him receive with courage nothing lesse,
But with a greater ire his rage represse:
As when the angrie Ocean with a shock
Strives for to break some firmly fixed rock,
Which stands unmoved, and his swelling pride
And vain-spent Malice seemeth to deride;
Making his waves, which did so rashly roam,
To dash themselves into a spatt'red foam:
Thus was the Crabats furie broke in sunder,
Who fell upon the Swedish troups like thunder.
26
Sufficient was his enemies to fright,
Scap'd not unwounded: for the leaden showre
Fear'd not at all his mortall-feared Power;
Though it be still unknown, from whose hand came
The force that wounded so renown'd a Name.
'Tis not a single wound that can restrain
Or check his valour; but enrag'd again
With doubled furie, he assails his foes,
Who will not yeeld him any thing but blowes.
By this time great GUSTAVUS watchfull eye
An opportune advantage doth espie
To break the squadrons of their ranged Horse,
Who charged them so oft with headlong force.
A Regiment their stations quickly change,
And now stood ord'red in a treble range:
The first rank couched on their knees: the next
Stood half-way bended: but the third erects
His armed trunk upright. Thus as one rank,
Were all their musquets levelled point-blank.
At both their wings stood troups of readie Horse,
Prepar'd to second with a speedie course.
Then at a word did all give fire, and powre
Among th' enraged Horse a leaden showre,
That flew as thick as hail, when Boreas blast
Doth from the clouds his frozen treasure cast.
Had I an hundred tongues, an Iron heart,
And all the help the Muses can impart;
Yet could I not in this my stagg'ring verse
The shadow of that slaughter now rehearse:
When in the twinkling of an eye did fall
So many wounded wights, Horse, Man and all.
And that fair Squadron, which so lately stood
Like to some thick and closely-ranged wood,
Confusedly doth now appeare, and scatt'red.
Their order spoil'd, their ranks in sunder shatt'red:
As when in Autumne some tempestuous blast
From half-dead trees their feeble leaves doth cast,
And with another garment then her own
The under-sited ground is thickly strown:
Thus was the field with bleeding bodies spread,
That had been wounded by the piercing lead.
But while the rest, fill'd with amaze and wonder,
To see th' effects of this so sudden thunder,
Knew not which way to turn or bend their faces;
A Regiment of Horse with doubled paces
Flie in amongst them; in their teeth discharge
A second volley; make the breach more large.
Then forward on with rage and force they push,
And their fear-strucken foes soon over-rush;
Who now had lost all minde and heart to fight,
And did betake them to a sudden flight.
This their example made their other Bands
Begin to faint, and fight with trembling hands.
And as their feeble vigour doth decrease,
The Swethlanders doth double: on they preasse
With greater courage now, then ere before:
The ground doth swimme with streams of humane gore.
An opportune advantage doth espie
To break the squadrons of their ranged Horse,
Who charged them so oft with headlong force.
A Regiment their stations quickly change,
And now stood ord'red in a treble range:
The first rank couched on their knees: the next
Stood half-way bended: but the third erects
His armed trunk upright. Thus as one rank,
Were all their musquets levelled point-blank.
At both their wings stood troups of readie Horse,
Prepar'd to second with a speedie course.
Then at a word did all give fire, and powre
Among th' enraged Horse a leaden showre,
That flew as thick as hail, when Boreas blast
Doth from the clouds his frozen treasure cast.
Had I an hundred tongues, an Iron heart,
And all the help the Muses can impart;
27
The shadow of that slaughter now rehearse:
When in the twinkling of an eye did fall
So many wounded wights, Horse, Man and all.
And that fair Squadron, which so lately stood
Like to some thick and closely-ranged wood,
Confusedly doth now appeare, and scatt'red.
Their order spoil'd, their ranks in sunder shatt'red:
As when in Autumne some tempestuous blast
From half-dead trees their feeble leaves doth cast,
And with another garment then her own
The under-sited ground is thickly strown:
Thus was the field with bleeding bodies spread,
That had been wounded by the piercing lead.
But while the rest, fill'd with amaze and wonder,
To see th' effects of this so sudden thunder,
Knew not which way to turn or bend their faces;
A Regiment of Horse with doubled paces
Flie in amongst them; in their teeth discharge
A second volley; make the breach more large.
Then forward on with rage and force they push,
And their fear-strucken foes soon over-rush;
Who now had lost all minde and heart to fight,
And did betake them to a sudden flight.
This their example made their other Bands
Begin to faint, and fight with trembling hands.
And as their feeble vigour doth decrease,
The Swethlanders doth double: on they preasse
28
The ground doth swimme with streams of humane gore.
At last, not able for to fill so fast
Their slaught'red ranks, as the rough Swethes did waste;
Backward they throng in heaps, disord'red quite,
Not willing now nor able for to fight.
But while that all tumultuouly do strive
To scape away, they do the formost drive
Headlong before them: over these they stumble,
And so the next, and next to them doth tumble.
(Strange for to see!) here lay a Souldier dead,
O're whom an heap of living bodies spread.
Sure he enjoy'd a farre more noble Tombe,
Then those which do th' Egyptian Kings inhume;
The loftie Pyramids, whom loud-tongu'd Fame
One of the world's chief wonders still doth name:
Or then that so renowned Sepulchre,
Which doth Mausolus Kingly bones interre.
All these where cov'red with dead marble stones:
But here is one intomb'd with living bones.
The fiery steeds, that never mercie knew,
Proudly themselves in spatt'red bloud embrew.
Here 'gainst a sprawling bodie one doth spurn,
And from his former wounds makes bloud return.
Another there a living head doth crush,
And from the same makes bloud and brains to gush.
Meanwhile their masters with unsparing hands,
Now none resist, murder at once whole Bands.
And where the sword doth fail, the trampling horse
Quickly dispatches with an headlong course.
The former slaughter of this bloudie day,
Compar'd with this, might seem Bellona's play.
The Sunne no longer could endure this sight,
But in compassion did withdraw his light:
And that he might their further rage prevent,
With speedie wings the welcome Night he sent;
Who, muffled in a vail of sable hue,
Quite o're the heads of these fierce Victours flew;
And then before them casteth such a mist,
As made their hands and vengefull Heat desist.
So a fierce Lion, a Getulian Swain
(If antique stories do not misse, or feigne)
Did with his garment muffle o're the head;
Then this so furious Beast did stand as dead:
Stirres not one jot; but, as amazed quite,
Loses his cruell furie with his sight:
And while that he thus strangely seems to pause,
The fearfull Swain scapes his devouring jawes.
Their slaught'red ranks, as the rough Swethes did waste;
Backward they throng in heaps, disord'red quite,
Not willing now nor able for to fight.
But while that all tumultuouly do strive
To scape away, they do the formost drive
Headlong before them: over these they stumble,
And so the next, and next to them doth tumble.
(Strange for to see!) here lay a Souldier dead,
O're whom an heap of living bodies spread.
Sure he enjoy'd a farre more noble Tombe,
Then those which do th' Egyptian Kings inhume;
The loftie Pyramids, whom loud-tongu'd Fame
One of the world's chief wonders still doth name:
Or then that so renowned Sepulchre,
Which doth Mausolus Kingly bones interre.
All these where cov'red with dead marble stones:
But here is one intomb'd with living bones.
The fiery steeds, that never mercie knew,
Proudly themselves in spatt'red bloud embrew.
Here 'gainst a sprawling bodie one doth spurn,
And from his former wounds makes bloud return.
Another there a living head doth crush,
And from the same makes bloud and brains to gush.
Meanwhile their masters with unsparing hands,
Now none resist, murder at once whole Bands.
29
Quickly dispatches with an headlong course.
The former slaughter of this bloudie day,
Compar'd with this, might seem Bellona's play.
The Sunne no longer could endure this sight,
But in compassion did withdraw his light:
And that he might their further rage prevent,
With speedie wings the welcome Night he sent;
Who, muffled in a vail of sable hue,
Quite o're the heads of these fierce Victours flew;
And then before them casteth such a mist,
As made their hands and vengefull Heat desist.
So a fierce Lion, a Getulian Swain
(If antique stories do not misse, or feigne)
Did with his garment muffle o're the head;
Then this so furious Beast did stand as dead:
Stirres not one jot; but, as amazed quite,
Loses his cruell furie with his sight:
And while that he thus strangely seems to pause,
The fearfull Swain scapes his devouring jawes.
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