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Our King thus trembles at Namur,
Whilst Villeroy, who ne'er afraid is, To Bruxelles marches on secure,
To bomb the monks and scare the ladies. After this glorious expedition,
One battle makes the Marshal great; He must perform the King's commission;
Who knows but Orange may retreat ? Kings are allow'd to feign the gout,
Or be prevail'd with not to fight; And mighty Louis hop'd, no doubt,
That William would preserve that right.
From Seine and Loire, to Rhone and Po,.
See every mother's son appear :
If he betrays some little fear.
Finds a small river in his way;
And thinks it prudent there to stay.
The Marshal cares not to march faster ; Poor Villeroy moves so slowly here
We fancied all it was his master.
Will no kind flood, no friendly rain,
Disguise the Marshal's plain disgrace ; No torrents swell the low Mehayne ?
The world will say, he durst not pass. Why will no Hyades appear,
Dear poet, on the banks of Sambre? Just as they did that mighty year
When you turn’d June into December,
Ses guerets d'epics chargés,
Et sous les urnes fangeuses Des Hyades oragueses
Tous ses trésors submergés
Déployez toutes vos rages,
Princes, vents, peuples, frimats; Ramassez tous vos nuages;
Rassamblez tous vos saldats. Malgré vous Namur en poudre S'en va tomber sous la foudre
Qui domta Lille, Courtray, Grand la superbe Espagnole, Saint Omer, Bezançon, Dole,
Ypres, Maestricht, et Cambray.
Mes présages s'accomplissent;
Il commence à chanceler: Sous les coups qui retentissent
Ses murs s'en vont s'ecrouler. Mars en feu qui les domine, Souffle à grand bruit leur ruine;
Et les bombes dans les airs Allant chercher le tonnere, Semblent tombant sur la terre,
Vouloir s'ouvrir les enfers.
Accourez, Nassau, Baviere,
De ces murs l'unique espoir; A couvert d'une riviere
Venez: vous pouvez tout voir.
The water-nymphs are, too, unkind
To Villeroy; are the land-nymphs so? And fly they all, at once combin'd
To shame a general and a beau?
Truth, justice, sense, religion, fame,
May join to finish William's story; Nations set free, may bless his name,
And France in secret own his glory; But Ypres, Maestricht, and Cambray,
Besançon, Ghent, Saint Omer's, Lisle, Courtray, and Dole-Ye critics, say,
How poor to this was Pindar's style? With ekes and alsos tack thy strain,
Great Bard! and, sing the deathless prince, Who lost Namur the same campaign
He bought Dixmuyd, and plunder'd Deynse. I'll hold ten pounds my dream is out;
I'd tell it you but for the rattle
Yon bloody rogues intend a battle.
With terror fill the neighbouring field, While William carries on the trench,
Till both the town and castle yield. Villeroy to Boufflers should advance,
Says Mars, through cannons mouths' in fire; Id est, one Mareschal of France
Tells t other he can come no nigher.
Regain the lines the shortest way,
Villeroy, or to Versailles take post, For having seen it, thou canst say
The steps by which Namur was lost.
Considerez ces approches :
Ces athletes belliqueux;
Marcher, courir avecque eux.
Contemplez dans la tempeste,
Qui sort de ces boulevards,
Attire tous les regards.
S'attache dans les combats :
vôle, et le suit à grands pas.
Grands defenseurs de l'Espagne,
Montrez-vous : il en est temps : Courage; vers la Mahagne
Voilà vos drapeaux flottans,
Tant de guerriers s'amasser.
N'osez-vous la traverser?
Loin de fermer le passage
A vos nombreux bataillons, Luxembourg a du rivage
Reculé ses pavillons. Quoy? leur seul aspect vous glace? Où sont ces chefs pleins d'audace,
The smoke and flame may vex thy sight;
Look not once back; but, as thou goest, Quicken the squadrons in their flight,
And bid the devil take the slowest.
From Louis to conceal thy fear;
Tell him that William was but there.
Now let us look for Louis' feather,
That us’d to shine so 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 hadst dubb'd thy star a meteor,
That did but blaze, and rove, and die.
To animate the doubtful fight,
Namur in vain expects that ray;
Should shine near William's fuller day, It knows Versailles its proper station,
Nor cares for any foreign sphere : Where you see Boileau's constellation,
Be sure 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 Muse is bent upon't,
To sing her King, that great commander, Or on the shores of Hellespont, Or in the vallies near Scamander, Vol. XV.