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Will no kind flood, no friendly rain,
Difguife the Marshal's plain difgrace?
No torrents fwell the low Mehayne?
The world will fay, he durft not pafs.
Why will no Hyades appear,

Dear Poet, on the banks of Sambre;
Juft as they did that mighty year,

When you turn'd June into December?
The water-nymphs are too unkind

To Villeroy; are the land-nymphs fo♪
And fly they all, at once combin'd
To fhame a General, and a Beau ?

Truth, juftice, fenfe, religion, fame,

May join to finish William's story :
Nations fet free may blefs his name:

And France in fecret own his glory.
But Ypres, Maftricht, and Cambray,
Befançon, Ghent, St. Omers, Lifle,
Courtray, and Dole
Ye critics, fay,

How poor to this was Pindar's ftyle?
With eke's and alfo's tack thy ftrain,

Great bard! and fing the deathlefs Princes

Who loft Namur the fame campaign

He bought Dixmuyd, and plunder'd; Deynfe.

I'll hold ten pound my dream is out :
I'd tell it you, but for the rattle
Of those confounded drums; no doubt
Yon' bloody rogues intend a battle.


Mars en feu qui les domine,
Souffle à grand 'bruit leur ruine,

Et les bombes dans les airs
Allant chercher le tonnere,
Semblent tombant fur la terre,
Vouloir s'ouvrir les enfers.


Accourez, Naffau, Baviere,
De ces murs l'unique efpoir :
A couvert d'une riviere

Venez vous pouvez tout voir.
Confiderez ces approches:
Voyez grimper fur ces roches
Ces athletes belliqueux ;

Et dans les eaux, dans la flame,
Louis à tout donnant l'ame,

Marcher, courir avec eux.


Contemplez dans la tempête,
Qui fort de ces boulevars,
La plume qui fur sa tête
Attire tous les regards.
A cet aftre redoubtable
Toûjours un fort favorable
S'attache dans les combats :
Et toûjours avec la gloire
Mars amenant la victoire
Vole, & le fuit à grands pas.

XII. Grands

Dear me a hundred thousand French
With terror fill the neighbouring field:
While William carries on the trench,

Till both the town and castle yield.
Villeroy to Boufflers fhould advance,

Says Mars, through cannons' mouths in fire;
Id eft, one Marefchal of France

Tells t'other, he can come no nigher..

Regain the lines the shortest way,
Villeroy; or to Versailles take post;
For, having feen it, thou canst say

The steps, by which Namur was loft.
The smoke and flame may vex thy fight:
Look not once back: but, as thou goeft,
Quicken the squadrons in their flight,
And bid the devil take the floweft.
Think not what reason to produce,
From Louis, to conceal thy fear:
He'll own the strength of thy excufe;
Tell him that William was but there.

Now let us look for Louis' feather,
That us'd to fhine fo like a star:
The Generals could not get together,
Wanting that influence, great in war.
O Poet! thou hadst been discreeter,

Hanging the monarch's hat so high;
If thou hadft dubb'd thy star, a meteor,
That did but blaze, and rove, and die.


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To animate the doubtful fight,
Namur in vain expects that ray:
In vain France hopes, the fickly light
Should shine near William's fuller day :
It knows Verfailles, its proper station,
Nor cares for any foreign sphere:
Where you fee Boileau's conftellation,
Be fure no danger can be near.


The French had gather'd all their force ;
And William met them in their way:

Yet off they brush'd, both foot and horse.
What has friend Boileau left to say?
When his high Mufe is bent upon 't,
To fing her king-that great commander,
Or on the fhores of Hellefpont,

Or in the valleys near Scamander;
Would it not fpoil his noble task,

If any foolish Phrygian there is, Impertinent enough to ask,

How far Namur may be from Paris?


Two ftanzas more before we end,

Of death, pikes, rocks, arms, bricks, and fire: Leave them behind you, honest friend ;

And with your countrymen retire.


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