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O'er-look the Foe, Advantag'd by his Post,
Lessen his Numbers, and Contract his Host:
Tho' Fens and Floods possest the middle Space,
That unprovok'd they would have fear'd to pass;
Nor Fens nor Floods can stop Britannia's Bands,
When Her proud Foe rang'd on their Borders stands.
Lessen his Numbers, and Contract his Host:
Tho' Fens and Floods possest the middle Space,
That unprovok'd they would have fear'd to pass;
Nor Fens nor Floods can stop Britannia's Bands,
When Her proud Foe rang'd on their Borders stands.
But O, my Muse, what Numbers wilt thou find
To sing the furious Troops in Battle join'd!
Methinks I hear the Drum's tumultuous Sound
The Victor's Shouts and Dying Groans confound,
The dreadful Burst of Cannon rend the Skies,
And all the Thunder of the Battle rise.
'Twas then Great MARLBRO's mighty Soul was prov'd,
That, in the Shock of Charging Hosts unmov'd,
Amidst Confusion, Horror, and Despair,
Examin'd all the Dreadful Scenes of War;
In peaceful Thought the Field of Death survey'd,
To fainting Squadrons sent the timely Aid,
Inspir'd repuls'd Battalions to engage,
And taught the doubtful Battle where to rage.
So when an Angel, by Divine Command,
With rising Tempests shakes a guilty Land,
Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past,
Calm and Serene he drives the furious Blast;
And pleas'd th' Almighty's Orders to perform,
Rides in the Whirl-wind, and directs the Storm.
To sing the furious Troops in Battle join'd!
Methinks I hear the Drum's tumultuous Sound
The Victor's Shouts and Dying Groans confound,
The dreadful Burst of Cannon rend the Skies,
And all the Thunder of the Battle rise.
'Twas then Great MARLBRO's mighty Soul was prov'd,
That, in the Shock of Charging Hosts unmov'd,
Amidst Confusion, Horror, and Despair,
Examin'd all the Dreadful Scenes of War;
In peaceful Thought the Field of Death survey'd,
To fainting Squadrons sent the timely Aid,
Inspir'd repuls'd Battalions to engage,
And taught the doubtful Battle where to rage.
So when an Angel, by Divine Command,
With rising Tempests shakes a guilty Land,
Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past,
Calm and Serene he drives the furious Blast;
And pleas'd th' Almighty's Orders to perform,
Rides in the Whirl-wind, and directs the Storm.
But see the haughty Houshold-Troops advance!
The Dread of Europe, and the Pride of France.
The War's whole Art each private Soldier knows,
And with a Gen'ral's Love of Conquest glows;
Proudly He Marches on, and void of Fear,
Laughs at the shaking of the British Spear:
Vain Insolence! with Native Freedom brave,
The meanest Briton scorns the highest Slave:
Contempt and Fury fire their Souls by turns,
Each Nation's Glory in each Warrior burns;
The Dread of Europe, and the Pride of France.
The War's whole Art each private Soldier knows,
And with a Gen'ral's Love of Conquest glows;
Proudly He Marches on, and void of Fear,
Laughs at the shaking of the British Spear:
Vain Insolence! with Native Freedom brave,
The meanest Briton scorns the highest Slave:
Contempt and Fury fire their Souls by turns,
Each Nation's Glory in each Warrior burns;
Each
