University of Virginia Library

Search this document 

expand sectionI. 
collapse sectionII. 
  
expand section 
expand section 
expand section 
  
  
  
  
  
expand section 
expand section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand section 
  
The CAMPAIGN.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand sectionIII. 
expand sectionIV. 


203

The CAMPAIGN.

1692.
When People find their Money spent,
They recollect which way it went,
The like in order to prevent
for th'Future.
That Money's spent I need not tell,
For what I know not very well,
Unless to make Folks to Rebel
or Tutor.
But lest you think it spent in vain,
And of our Hero's Acts complain,
I will describe this last Campaign
in Flanders.
With Treasure, Ships, and Arms good store,
To make the French (as we be) poor,
He did embark with many more
Commanders.
While Cares were fighting in his Breast,
And nothing left (but Wife) unprest,
He took, not staying to be bless'd,
his Ark Sir.
Hastning to make some work for Verse,
Fit for dull Dutchmen to rehearse,
Where Wit and Courage are so scarce;
d'ye mark Sir.
He was no sooner set on shore,
When News came Post that Luxembur'
Had actually besieg'd Namur,
nigh Liege Sir.

204

This Action put him in amaze
Fearing if he should make delays,
It would be difficult to raise
the Siege Sir.
With that he muster'd all his Force,
Full fourscore thousand Foot and Horse,
That never flinch'd or hung an Arse
when fighting.
And march'd away with Noble Train;
But all Endeavours prov'd in vain,
There were such Storms of Thunder, Rain
and Lightning.
The filthy Season made him fret;
Not that he fear'd the French a bit;
But that it was such plaguy wet
raw Weather.
We boldly view'd their dirty Passes,
And strong Retrenchments where no Grass is,
And so retir'd like driven Asses
together.
For not attempting once to fight,
Namur was taken in our sight,
Though from the Town we lay not quite
a Mile, Sir.
The strength of Flanders so was won,
And W--- bravely saw it done,
And unconcernedly lookt on
the while, Sir.
The Dutch, who better knew the Land,
Found it too slippery to stand,
And therefore would not be trapann'd,
as we were.
For so to Fight at any rate,
Without Assurance of their Fate,
Or a respect to Future State,
is not fair.

205

Low Country Courage thus express'd,
His Highness thought it time to rest,
And full three Months he took at least
to do it.
When so refresh'd, in hast he rose,
And swore, (for 'twas his turn t'oppose)
He'd be reveng'd, and make his Foes
to rue it.
To carry on this great Design,
Early one Morning very fine,
He did resolve to force their Line
and Trenches.
With Swords, and Guns, and Hand-Granadoes,
He made his way through Ambuscadoes,
And beat down some o'th Palisadoes
of the Frenches.
So there began a warm Dispute,
The French were strong and held him to't;
For Æsop order'd all his Foot
to draw forth.
When Two Fight, one must always beat,
'Tis said; but that's a meer deceit;
For W--- only did retreat,
and so forth.
He left indeed Six Thousand Dead,
At least they were despirited,
Twelve hundred, some say, were Pris'ners made,
but I won't.
The French did soon decamp we find,
As if to Fight no more inclin'd,
Leaving the Lord knows what behind,
for I don't.
What if this great Attempt did fail?
He had another to prevail,
That Monsieur might his Stars bewail
with sorrow.

206

Louis in hopes was made to fly,
His Conquests left to W--- to buy;
To th'Commonwealth his Tyranny
to borrow.
'Twas a Descent, you understand,
On the French Coasts some Men to land,
To rescue Traytors from the hand
of Lewis.
Old Laws of France there to restore,
As England's he had done before;
But some will ha't to break 'em more,
most true is.
Suppose all Kings alike for ease,
And the Name only not to please,
(Old Things with us are a Disease)
'twere madness.
While Lewis's Glory does commence,
T'exchange him for a creeping Prince,
'Twould be a vile Affront to Sense
in sadness.
The Ladies would forbid those Arts,
To give away their King of Hearts,
For one of less performing parts
than le Grand.
For One that ha'nt to show, God knows,
So much to please 'em, as a Nose;
Tho it may serve to spight his Foes,
how ere't stand.
But while our Champion was abroad,
Mind how he kept the very Road
He to his Cabinet had show'd,
and went in.
To drag our Landmen out to Sea,
To use them ill, and keep their Pay,
Strict Orders coming ev'ry Day
from B---ting.

207

With fifteen Thousand Men, and more,
Five hundred Ships to waft them o'er,
With sixty Cannons that would roar
like Thunder.
Some fifty Mortars great and small,
Bombs, Carcases, the Devil and all,
And bloody Threats sent from Whitehall,
you'd wonder.
Spades, Shovels, Pioneers they got,
Guns, Swords, sav'd all since Oates's Plot,
At Bilboa made, if I am not
mistaken.
Bridles and Saddles not a few,
With Harnesses for Mankind too,
To shew the French what they must do,
if taken.
The forty thousand Bills from Spain,
Which ne'er till then saw Sun or Rain,
But have in Hugger Mugger lain,
fourteen year;
The Pilgrims too, fly Voluntiers,
Expected just so many years,
If you'll believe't, t'increase French Fears,
were seen there:
But above all they were supplied
With six Months powdred Beef beside,
For fear the French should not provide
enough, Sir.
And armed with a pious Zeal
For holy Kirk, and Commonweal,
And Courage true as any Steel,
or Buff, Sir.
This grand Design was deeply laid,
If it be true that People said,
That Rochel was to be betray'd,
or Dunkirk;

208

Tho others said they were to go
In dusk of Night to St. Malo,
To burn the Ships and mall the Foe
with Dungfork.
But some a wiser thing did say,
'Twas farther off into a Bay,
Not far from Bayonne, call'd Biscay
nigh Spaniard.
To stop our Search an Order came,
That none the destin'd Place should name,
But he should strait be hang'd for th'same
at Main-yard.
All thus equipt, Wind sitting Right,
They hoisted Sail with all their Might,
And safely past the Isle of Wight
as can be.
Strange Hopes and Fears did us possess,
To know what would be the Success,
When suddenly came an Express
to Danby;
Which brought Advice that Russel, he
With L---ster's Duke could not agree;
So was our Project utterly
defeated.
To get in order this Descent
Four hundred thousand Pounds were spent;
So you, and not the Government
were cheated.
Thus between French that us do beat,
And Dutch that daily do us cheat,
Our Grief and Ruins must be great,
I fear it.
Issachar's Arms may ours be made,
An Ass between two Burdens laid,
To both for being Jews betray'd
you'll swear it.
Namur we saw to France submit,
At Steinkirk flush'd into a Net,

209

And the Descent proved beshit
all over.
His Conquests thus at once you view,
And how he did his Foes subdue;
His Triumphs next I will to you
discover.
But first observe how he return'd!
Some Paltry Ships that you thought burn'd,
And Bart, with whom to fight he scorn'd,
no wonder,
Met him: But Kings, whose Honour lies
As his, be not to fight a Prize
With Folks concern'd in Robberies
and Plunder.
So to escape a Bloody Bout,
He did take down his Royal Clout,
Or Flag, on which it did fall out,
Gaff. Momus.
Our King of Bees then did not fail,
Altho he wears no Sting in's Tail,
And without shifting Hive to sail
safe Home to's.
The Tower Guns were all prepar'd,
And Fireworks on Lighters rear'd;
But what came on 'em I ne'er heard
a Verbum.
In Windows most Folks set up Lights,
Excepting saucy Jacobites,
That had their Glazing broke to rights,
to curb 'em.
First came some Guards to clear the way;
And next a Squire with Boots of Hay,
And on a Nag most miserably
Bejaded.
Two Men came next, who cring'd and bow'd,
And humbly did beseech the Crowd,
To make a noise, and baul aloud
as they did.

210

Then came a Coach, in which there sate
Four Lords, who went, as People prate,
His Highness to congratulate
and flatter.
Next twenty Mob, the Chief o'th Town,
In left Hand Club, in right Hand Stone,
Those Windows which had Candles none
to batter.
Four Horses next a Chariot drew,
In which of Dutch-men there sate two,
Whose very Looks would make one spew
as I did.
At last the fierce Life-guards appear'd,
Who at the Candles gap'd and star'd:
And thus his Triumphs you have heard
described.
Now judg if he's so fit a Pin
For th'wounded Hole that he is in;
Or have we cause to chuse again
or no, Sir;
If we to Slavery are born;
Yet 'tis a Case that's too forlorn,
To serve them that our Servants scorn,
I trow Sir.
But after all it must be said,
His Conquests were not quite so bad,
But he those Triumphs merited,
and more, Sir:
For sure no Emperor of Rome,
Nor British King was, I presume,
With Farthing Candles lighted home
before, Sir.