University of Virginia Library

A new Song of the French King's fear of an Orange.

[The First Part.]

[1]

Of a Hectoring Bully,
Dear Muse, let me sing;
Or to speak one's Mind fully,
O'th' most Christian King:
Who subdues Men by huffing,
And converts Men by cuffing;
Yet he fears if an Orange approaches too nigh,
The gay Flow'r-de-Luces will wither and die.

2

He's Son to a chaste Queen,
Tho, if Authors don't lye,
The devout Mazarine
Had a Finger i'th' Pye;
To mould a Church Hero,
More fierce than a Nero,
Who yet fears if an Orange approaches too nigh,
His gay Flow'r-de-Luces will wither and die.

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253

3

While he's scaring his Neighbours
With swelling Bravadoes,
We but laugh at his Vapours
And Rhodomontadoes;
Tho Monseigneur the Dauphin
Does new Conquests begin,
Yet they dread if an Orange approaches too nigh,
The gay Flow'r-de-Luces will wither and die.

4

The prodigious Advance
That the Prince here has made,
Makes an Earthquake in France,
And great Lewis afraid.
La Chaise's Address,
And the Jesuits Finess,
Can't hinder an Orange from approaching so nigh,
That the gay Flow'r-de-Luces will wither and die.

5

If a Fury Poetick
Foreknows things to come,
I may dare be prophetick,
And foretel his just doom:
For old Nostradame
Has predicted the same,
That if once the brave Orange approaches too nigh,
The gay Flow'r-de-Luces will wither and die.

The Second Part.

1

'Tis a sport to our Prince
To bridle up a King,
Tho the Beast kick and wince,
His firm Rider to fling;

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254

He'll make him curvet,
And so steadily sit,
That an Orange once planted upon the French shore,
The gay Flow'r-de-Luces shall flourish no more.

2

Help, help, some kind Saint,
Holy Church's two Sons:
Help, thou Church Militant
Of converting Dragoons.
Shall Lewis Victorious,
Shall Lewis the Glorious,
See an Orange transplanted upon the French Shore,
And his gay Flow'r-de-Luces then flourish no more?

3

Good Cæsar compound,
Do but trust me once more;
If I'm treach'rous found,
I'm a Son of a Whore.
Let us en bonne Foy,
Our joint Forces employ,
To stave off an Orange quite from the French Shore,
Lest the gay Flow'r-de-Luces should flourish no more.

4

'Tis a cursed ill thing
Makes me rave and run mad;
If I were not a King,
I'd my self fight I'gad:
Beside, riding will pain-o
My Bagpipe in Ano.
Must an Orange be planted then on the French Shore,
And my gay Flow'r-de-Luces thus flourish no more?

5

The wild Worm in my Tail
My Vigour all drains;
Through its winding Canal
I've voided my Brains:

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255

And these damn'd Hereticks
Have fool'd my Politicks,
For an Orange once planted upon the French Shore,
My gay Flow'r-de-Luces will flourish no more.