The CAMPAIGN 1692.
VVHEN 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 least 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 besieged
Namur,
nigh
Liege Sir.
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 bitt;
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
William 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
trappann'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.
Low-Country Courage thus express't,
His
Higness thought it time to
rest,
And full
three Months he took at least
to do it.
When so
refresh't in
haste 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
Aesop order'd all his Foot
to draw forth.
When
Two Fight, one must always beat,
'Tis said; but that's a meer
deceit;
For
William 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 wont.
The
French did soon decamp we find,
As if to Fight no more inclined,
Leaving the Lord knows what behind;
for I dont.
What if this great
Attempt did fail?
He had another to prevail,
That Monsieur might his Stars bewail
with sorrow.
Louis in
hopes was made to
fly,
His
Conquests left to
Will. to
buy;
To'th
Commonwealth his
Tyranny
to borrow.
'Twas a
Descent, you understand,
On the
French Coasts some Men to Land,
To rescue Trayters 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'ex change 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;
Though 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
Benting.
With fifteen thousand Men, and more,
Five hundred Ships to waft them o'er,
With sixty Canons that would roar
like Thunder.
Some fifty Mortars great and small,
Bombs, Carcasses, the Devil and all,
And bloudy
Threats sent from
Whitehall,
you'd wonder.
Spades, Shovels, Pioniers they got,
Guns, Swords, sav'd all since
Oates's Plot,
At
Bilboa made, if I am not
mistaken;
Bridles and Sadles not a few,
With Harnesses for Mankind too,
To shew the
French what they must doe,
if taken.
The forty thousand Bills from
Spain,
Which ne'er till then saw Sun or Rain,
But have in Huggar Muggar lain
fourteen year;
The Pilgrims too, slie 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
Rochell was to be betraid,
or
Dunkirk;
Though 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 streight 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
Leinsters 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 too Burdens laid,
To both for being
Jews betray'd,
you'll Swear it.
Namur we saw to
France submit,
At
Steinkirk flusht into a Net,
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
Bert, 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 Boot,
He did take down his Royal Clout,
Or Flagg, on which it did fall out,
Gaff.
Momus.
Our King of Bees, then did not fail,
Although 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 sawcy
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.
Then came a Coach, in which there sate
Four Lords, who went, as People prate,
His Highness to congratulate
and flatter.
Next twenty Mobb, 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 judge 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.
FINIS.