Wit and Mirth: or Pills to Purge Melancholy.
Volume VI.
by Various.
PILLS TO PURGE MELANCHOLY.
VOL. VI.
_A_ BALLAD _on the Battle of_ AUDENARD. _Set by Mr._ LEVERIDGE.
[Music]
Ye Commons and Peers, Pray lend me your Ears, I"ll Sing you a Song if I can; How _Lewis le Grand_, Was put to a Stand, By the Arms of our Gracious Queen ANN.
How his Army so great, Had a total Defeat, Not far from the River of _Dender_; Where his Grand-Children twain, For fear of being slain, Gallop"d off with the Popish Pretender.
To a Steeple on High, The Battle to Spy, Up Mounted these clever young Men; And when from the Spire They saw so much Fire, They cleverly came down again.
Then a Horse-back they got, All upon the same spot, By advice of their Cousin _Vendosme_; O Lord! cry"d out he Unto young _Burgundy_, Wou"d your Brother and you were at Home.
Just so did he say When without more delay, Away the young Gentry fled; Whose Heels for that Work Were much lighter than Cork, But their Hearts were more heavy than Lead.
Not so did behave The young _Hannover_ brave In this b.l.o.o.d.y Field I a.s.sure ye; When his War-Horse was shot, Yet he matter"d it not, But charg"d still on Foot like a Fury.
When Death flew about Aloud he call"d out, Ho! you Chevalier of St. GEORGE; If you"ll never stand By Sea nor by Land, Pretender, that t.i.tle you forge.
Thus boldly he stood, As became that high Blood, Which runs in his Veins so blue; This Gallant young Man Being kin to Queen ANN, Fought as were she a Man, she wou"d do.
What a Racket was here, (I think "twas last Year) For a little ill Fortune in _Spain_; When by letting "em Win, We have drawn the Putts in To lose all they are worth this Campaign.
Tho" _Bruges_ and _Ghent_, To the Monsieur we lent, With Interest he soon shall repay "em; While _Paris_ may Sing, With her sorrowful King _De Profundis_, instead of _Te Deum_.
From their Dream of Success, They"ll awaken we guess At the sound of Great _Marlborough"s_ Drums; They may think if they will Of _Almanza_ still, But "tis _Blenheim_ wherever he comes.
O _Lewis_ perplex"d, What General"s next?
Thou hast hitherto chang"d "em in vain; He has beat "em all round, If no new ones are found, He shall Beat the old over again.
We"ll let _Tallard_ out If he"ll take t"other bout; And much he"s improv"d let me tell ye, With _Nottingham_ Ale, At every Meal, And good Pudding and Beef in his Belly.
As Losers at Play, Their Dice throw away, While the Winner he still Wins on; Let who will Command, Thou hadst better Disband, For Old Bully thy Doctors are gone.
A Happy Memorable BALLAD, _On the Fight near_ Audenard, _between the Duke of_ Marlborough, _of_ Great-Britain; _and the Duke of_ Vendosme, _of_ France. _As also the strange and wonderful Manner how the Princes of the Blood Royal of_ France, _were found in a Wood. In allusion to the_ Unhappy Memorable SONG _commonly call"d_ CHEVY-CHACE.
[Music]
G.o.d Prosper long our Gracious Queen, Our Lives and Safeties all: A woful Fight of late their did Near _Audenard_ befal.
To drive the _French_ with Sword and Gun, Brave _Marlborough_ took his Way; Ah! woe the Time that _France_ beheld The Fighting of that Day.
The Valiant Duke to Heaven had swore, _Vendosme_ shou"d pay full dear, For _Ghent_ and _Bruges_, e"er his Fame Should reach his Master"s Ear.
And now with Eighty Thousand bold, And chosen Men of Might; He with the _French_ began to wage A sharp and b.l.o.o.d.y Fight.
The Gallant _Britains_ swiftly ran, The _French_ away to Chase; On _Wednesday_ they began to fight, When Day-light did decrease.
And long before high-Night, they had Ten Thousand _Frenchmen_ slain; And all the Rivers Crimson flow"d, As they were dy"d in grain.
The _Britains_ thro" the Woods pursu"d, The nimble _French_ to take; And with their Cries the Hills and Dales, And every Tree did shake.
The Duke then to the Wood did come, In hopes _Vendosme_ to meet; When lo! the Prince of _Carignan_ Fell at his Grace"s Feet.
Oh! Gentle Duke forbear, forbear, Into that Wood to shoot; If ever pity mov"d your Grace, But turn your Eyes and look:
See where the Royal Line of _France_, Great _Lewis"s_ Heirs do lie; And sure a Sight more pitious was Ne"er seen by Mortal Eye.
What Heart of Flint but must relent, Like Wax before the Sun: To see their Glory at an end, E"er yet it was begun.
Whenas our General found your Grace, Wou"d needs begin to Fight: As thinking it wou"d please the Boys, To see so fine a Sight.
He straightway sent them to the Top Of yonder Church"s Spire; Where they might see, and yet be safe From Swords and Guns, and Fire.
But first he took them by the Hand, And kiss"d them e"er they went; Whilst Tears stood in their little Eyes, As if they knew th" Event.
Then said, he would with Speed return, Soon as the Fight was done; But when he saw his Men give Ground, Away he basely run,
And left these Children all alone, As Babes wanting Relief; And long they wandred up and down, No Hopes to chear their Grief.
Thus Hand in Hand they walk"d, "till At last this Wood they spy"d; And when they saw the Night grow dark, They here lay down and cry"d.
At this the Duke was inly mov"d, His Breast soft Pity beat; And so he straightway ordered His Men for to Retreat.
And now, but that my Pen is blunt, I might with ease relate; How Fifteen Thousand _French_ were took, Besides what found their Fate.
Nor should the Prince of _Hannover_ In silence be forgot; Who like a Lyon fought on Foot, After his Horse was shot.
And what strange Chance likewise befel, Unto these Children dear: But that your Patience is too much Already tir"d, I fear.
And so G.o.d Bless the Queen and Duke, And send a lasting Peace: That Wars and foul Debate henceforth In all the World may cease.