The Bloody Siege of VIENNA▪
A SONG.

Wherein the Turks have lost One Hundred and Sixty Thou­sand Men; being the greatest Victory that ever was obtained over the Turks, since the Foundation of the Ottoman Empire. Written by an English Gentleman Volunteer, that was at the Garrison during the Seige.

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THE Gods are now in Council sat,
For to survey the Worlds debate;
Both Mars and Jove incensed are
'Gainst Treason and Rebellious War:
This is the Fatal Year Design'd,
To crush the Faction in all parts;
The Algerines are all confin'd
To pay for all their Thieving Arts.
But HUNGARY, that Bloody Sceen,
Of which the German Whiggs have been
The provocation, and the Cause,
'Gainst God, the Emperour, and their Laws,
Yet still pretend Religion;
At the same time brought in the Turk,
They all are turn'd Mahometan,
Like ours, against the Duke of York.
Their Soveraign Lord the Emperour,
Ingag'd 'gainst the French in War:
Then, then those Bloody Rebels rose,
Surpriz'd his Friends with mortal blows;
They Sacrific'd Peasant and Peer,
With Fier and Sword, they laid all wast:
No Quarter gave for Seven Year,
Then brought the Turk to Burn the rest.
Three Hundred Thousand Turks in Rage,
Who never spared Sex nor Age;
In Seven Hundred Leagues they Marcht,
Till they VIENNA did Invest:
They raised Batteries round the Town,
Which did Command the highest Towers;
Candy, nor Rhoads, nor Christian Crown,
Was never assaulted by such Powers.
Then all the Skies in Black did Mourn,
As if the Town like TROY might Burn:
Then just as JOVE doth shake the World,
With Thunder-Claps their Balls were hurl'd
Against our Walls, the Gates, and Forts,
Each shot Two Hundred Pound in weight:
Their Shouts and Yells, and Guns Reports,
As if the Furies came to Fight.
The Christians answered them agen,
More like to Angels, then like Men:
Our Canonneers with Courage stands,
Three times dismounted their great Guns;
Each time our Souldiers sallied forth,
Kill'd all that durst oppose their Arms:
Each Christian Sword, for ten too hard,
Which gave their Camps too true Alarms.
A Hundred Mines at least they sprung,
Our Works blown up, both small and strong,
Quartered Men blown in the Air,
Kill, Kill, was all the Language there:
Their Trenches fill'd with slaughtered Turks,
Their Camp infected by the smell;
Guns went thump, thump; Plague Dam the Rump,
That taught all Nations to Rebel.
This Thunder, Tempest, Fire, and Blood,
We Fifty Days and Nights withstood;
Their Treacherous Mines we Countermin'd,
And Kill'd their Miners there confin'd:
We Kill'd'em Seventy Thousand Men,
Of our Fifteen was left but Five;
Brave POLAND then, like Caesar, came
the Captive Town for to releive.
Like Gods the Christians made their way,
As if they scorn'd to loose the day:
And to Revenge the Christian Cause,
They layed in more then Humane Blows;
And Fighting through their Ranks by force,
At every blow cut down a Turk:
To th' Knees in Blood, Run, Run that cou'd,
The Christians then had done their Work▪
Like Fiends before the approaching Sun,
The Turks before the Chr [...]stians Run;
Their Gold and Jewels, Tents and Guns,
Fell all into the Christians Hands:
No Tecklet all this Brunt appear'd,
Jack Presbyter lik'd not the sport;
And the Turk doth Swear, this Thousand Year,
He'l come no more at th' Emperour's Court.

LONDON, Printed for J. Dean, Bookseller in Cranborn-street, in Leicester ▪Fields, near Newport-House.

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