A Pindarique ode by way of panegyrick, upon the glorious conquests of magnanimous K. William in the campagne of 92. Presented to him at his return.

A Pindarique Ode By way of Panegyrick, upon the Glorious Conquests of Magnanimous K. WILLIAM in the Campagne of 92. Presented to him at his Return.

I.

LET uhe Parnassian immmortal Quire On this August Occasion tune their choycest Lyre; And inspire each Poets breast With Raptures more Heroick far, Than Tasso's, Homer's, or great Virgil's are; Let them club all their Furies into one, By none of these alone This Soveraign Subject can be worthily express'd. Let loud-mouth'd Fame her shrillest Trumpet take, And blow till both her big-swoln Cheeks and Lungs do ake, And startle the World both far and near, Th' astonishing Noise to hear. Let her brisk sounds thorough the trembling Sky To Heavens High-arch't Roof upward fly, And many Stories higher; And thence an Universal Eccho make, Able to stun all Europe, and make France to quake. Proud France that dares to vye With Royal WILLIAMS matchless power and deepest policy. The Subject is so Glorious and High, That, as he did his Foes, it makes Wit prostrate lye. Uictory, compleat Victory, Victories crowding one another so, As if they did together grow In a continuate Row, Which mow'd whole Armies down, and did annihilate the Foe. These, these are the great Themes I sing, Th' unheard of Victories of Great Britains King, Renowned WILLIAM, whose All-conquering hand, Has France subdu'd, sav'd and enrich't our happy Land.

II.

Now had the wanton Spring begun, To teem with the sweet Issue of the youthful Sun, When WILLIAM, Europes Sword, and Englands Shield, With Numerous Armies took and shook the Field. A Hundred Thousand bold and daring Hearts, To whom his single Valour Warlike Heat imparts, With strutting Marches did all over Glad Flanders cover. France heard the Noise of this great Hoast, And quak't for fear, King WILLIAM should come near, Whose Valour they had try'd too often to their Cost. Yet to preserve an ill got Name, Something they must do for shame. Towards him King LEWIS in a trembling Fright Crept slowly, but yet durst not sight. To save his Credit he did feign He could not pass Mehaigne. Poor Luxemburg stood still and gaz'd, mean while, Great unconcerned WILLIAM at their Cowardise did smile. But when they saw him move, and's Colours wave, His very sight the Vict'ry gave; Away ran all the French, each striving one to save. But, as the Coward Bessus, who for fear did fly, By chance ran on the Foo and got the Victory; So by ill Luck they in their Flight, On poor Namur did light; And for their shelter took the easie Town; But Thanks to WILLIAM's Valour, not their own. 'Twas he that made them run, And 'twas their Fear, not Courage, which the weak Town won.

III.

At first our Monarch's breast with Fury glow'd, To see that Fools and Cowards often have Far better Fortune than the Wise and Brave, And to regain the Town he vow'd. But noble Pity, which with fierce Disdain In his great Soul alternately did reign, Did take its turn, and the too harsh Resolve recall'd again. Great Minds are still most Merciful, and so When WILLIAM saw the sad Case of his helpless Foe,

Let them still hold the Town, said he, The Free Gift of our Generosity: I will not envy them their Lurking-hole, Let them enjoy't without Controul. I'le beat them in the Field; This, this Design Is only worthy to be called mine.

IV.

He sought their Army long time round about, But could not find them out, At length his piercing Eye Made clearer by quick sighted policy, Discover'd how they did near Steen-kerk ly; With brakes and bushes shrowded And with thick blinds of Woods beclouded, Just as the Knights-bridge Army lay. When the two Monarchs Ʋsh. and Phys. the Brentford Realms did sway. So, in her form finding the Timorous Hare Or as Moss caught his Mare, He set upon them, who straightway begun With nimble Feet and fainting Hearts to run, But (Oh the blind Guide Fortune!) like Cow'rd Bessus they, Did again quite mistake their way, And, thinking to run home, on us they fell, And, by running over us, knock't us down pell-mell; Not that they hurt a Man of us in Fight. But Mortal Power could not resist their fierce and desperate Flight.

V.

Yet Glory's Thirst something to slake, Let us, cries WILLIAM, at least Ipres take, That all the World may say, We can take Towns as well as they. The powerful Word scarce spoke, our winged Troops did fly, And to the Town approached nigh. This struck the French with more than Panick fear; Boufflers they sent, The wise-laid Project to prevent, And in our Army's way, French Blocks they lay. This did Great WILLIAM's high Thoughts fire, To conceive Attempts still higher. Dunkirk, the Christian Argiers (if at all We the French may Christians call)

Dunkirk shall down, said he, the Pyrates Nest Besieg'd, bomb'd, scal'd, we from their hands will wrest. This spoke, Bombs, Canons, by commanding Charm Were brought from Maestricht, and our Troops did swarm Towards the damn'd place whose Doom our Prince had past. (And Fate ne're spoke more sure Words than are His, Nor did his wise Aym ever miss.) Yet still his Noble Mercy did again With his Dread Anger struggle amain, And again got the Victory at last. For, seeing the fearful Cowards hye New Forts to rear where they secure might lye, He generously did scorn T' attacque poor Wretches trembling and forlorn; So, back to strong Maestricht Wars Thunderbolts were born.

VI.

Wherefore, at our Victorious King's Auspicious Return Let all the Sky with Bonefires burn, The Bells ring lofty Welcomes, and the Tower With thrice-discharged Peals express his Thundering Power, Let Loyal Citizens Pyramids invent, Such as may over-look their Monument. Mildness in War, (As Rose that amongst Byars grows Far more sweetly shows) Is more Illustrious by far Than uncompassionate Cruelty than none does spare. And what more Gallant, what more Brave, Than when he could have kill'd All, All to save! He more than Worlds does conquer without Blood or Pain, Who o're Himself does Conquest gain. And he's more truly a Victor whose wise Skill Can win Mens Minds, than he who does their Bodies kill. No doubt, but when 'tis understood, Our Heroe is even to his worst Foes so Gracious and so Good There can need no rough force of Arms, Where such sweet Kindness charms: But by a Stratagem strangely rare and new, Attractive Meekness all his Foes will straight subdue, Make his enamour'd Enemies for Peace sue, And save our England precious Blood, and precious Money too.

Philanax.