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 bloody 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 God Bless the Queen and Duke, And send a lasting Peace: That Wars and foul Debate henceforth In all the World may cease. _The Duke of_ Marlborough's _Health. Set by Mr._ R. COX. [Music]