Al-Man-Sir, or, Rhodomontados of the most horrible terrible and invincible Captain Sr. Fredrick Fight-all English and French.

The Most Valiant Sir Fre∣derick Fight-All's Panagy∣rick on himself.

I Never yet could find that daring He, Durst whisper, any yet hath conquerd me. I've fought the Champions of the Earth all round; And either slew, or made them quit their ground. From Pole to Pole such mighty things I've done, That from all Heroes, I their Glory won. So that the wonder of Mankind I'me stil'd, And chief in Valours Register I'me fil'd.

Yet still I must Act more, that labr'ing Fame, May Reel, and Tire, and Sink, to bear my Name. And when ten thousand miracles I've done, Out shining far the lustre of the Sun; When by the envy of the Gods Ime whirl'd, Ravisht, and snatcht, up to the higher World; When Heav'n is of my company grown proud; You shall behold me perching on a Cloud. Could I to fearful Man my Soul infuse, 'Twould teach him how aright his Sword to use, How he should take in Cittadels, and Towns, Kingdoms and Nations conquer, ravish Crowns, Raise Seiges, vanquish enemies; and all Those deeds in Valours sacred List do fall. Sometimes a single Kingdomes part I take, Then with my looks I make the rest to quake, Where e're I go, my presence conquest brings,

My single hand can sway the fate of Kings. I've Ensigns snatcht oft from an Armies head, And at my Feet laid prostrate Gyants dead. Out Hector'd Champions, and out foam'd wild Bores, Out bluster'd billows, breaking on the shores. Out fought Briareus, with his hundred hands; Out walk't the Tygers on the Arabian Sands. Out star'd the Face of death in Blood and Wars. Out shin'd the Moon, out shot the falling Stars. Out lightned Lightning, and out thunder'd Thunder; Gut did great Mars in Field, and outvy'd Wonder. Astonisht Ages from these deeds shall learn. Which way I move, that way the World shall turn.

If y'are with this not satisfied enough, I'le of my Valour give you urcher p••oof. I by an Host surrounded was in fi l••, Whose Gen'ral cry'd, fight not st••ut man, but yeild. I, daunted not, rusht in, and with one swing. Before my Feet, I laid his breathless King, At which a Neighb'ring Prince his quarrel took; From his broad Shoulders, his proud head I struck, So quick, the head after it fell it curst. The next advanc'd whose Fate was like the first. Him I beheaded so most vig'rously, That with the force, his falli••g head kill'd three. Then being beset with an united pow'r, With my long Sword n••xt pass, I thrust through four. VVith Carkasses I made long Lanes, and to be short, In one hours space, I made this bloody sport.

Here scatter'd Swords, there Woods of Lances stood; Here heaps of bodies lay, there streams of blood. With open mouth there lay a gasping head; As if it thirsted for the blood it shed. Here a lopt head cut capers, as if 'twoud Have danc't up to the Shoulders, where it stood. There lay dismembred arms, in their own gore, Which stretcht, and graspt to reach the Swords they bore: The object look'd as if it had exprest A thousand Victims offer'd by a Priest. VVhen I'de done all, and heaps on heaps compil'd, I fairly turn'd about my self, and smil'd. How ill these mortals manag'd their com∣mand, Although all Hero's nothing in my hand. Thus I do never stoop to little things, I seldome vanquish any under Kings. VVhen none can kill me, I my self must doom,

And call upon the Gods to make me room. Thus when I please I mortal blood can spill; Yet know, that I can cure; as well as kill. Dismembred Trunks (which welter in their gore) That hand them lopt can them again re∣store. Quack Aesculapius of Cures may boast, And in that thing, a very Knight o'th Post. Conf••st, He did some petty things, what then? But I of mortals, make immortal men. Did He now live, He might imboldned be By his great skill, as to compare with me. But I de convince the Slave, ••is only I Have pow'r to guide a Monarchs Destiny: Such proud Quack salvers must not be in∣dur'd, Who never saw the wounds which I have cur'd. My hand the rule of humane Fate hath swai'd, Cur'd wounds as mortal, as my Sword hath made.

My hand mens tott'ring Fabricks can er••ct, And be the lesser worlds great Architect. I with my Sword have often digg'd a grave, And from its fatal brink, as oft did save. Al-Man-Sirs Art hath Natures pow'r with∣stood; The old let out, I have infus'd new blood. Nay when mens looks do wear, more hor∣rid forms, Then the Grimaces of a Sea in Storms, I have made horrour, pains, and torture cease: 'Twixt Death, and sickly man, I've made a peace. Decrepit Nature, bedrid, at my sight, Hath rows'd, and rose, and walk't, and stood upright. My pow'r hath made declining lives stand fixt, And with new Heat, hath Cooling Vitals mixt. Nay more, when Death hath his bold en∣trance stole, And given defiance to a strugling Soul,

I've made fierce Death look pale at my ap∣proach, And trembling, not dare strike, where I dare touch. 'Tis no great thing to do, if true that all The pow'rs of art, within my circuit fall. So that o're mortal men I have this odds, Cure wounds, not only made by man, but Gods. In short, my art such wonders did afford, I have lost a ms, eyes, heads, nay lives re∣sto••'d. These and ten thousand such I've done, all true, Yet have not spoken half, what I can do.