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Swift, Jonathan, 1667-1745

"The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Volume 2"


Not so did behave
Young Hanover brave,[4]
In this bloody field I assure ye:
When his war-horse was shot
He valued it not,
But fought it on foot like a fury.
Full firmly he stood,
As became his high blood,
Which runs in his veins so blue:
For this gallant young man,
Being a-kin to QUEEN ANNE,
Did as (were she a man) she would do.
What a racket was here,
(I think 'twas last year,)
For a little misfortune in Spain!
For by letting 'em win,
We have drawn the puts in,
To lose all they're worth this campaign.
Though _Bruges_ and Ghent
To _Monsieur_ we lent,
With interest they shall repay 'em;
While _Paris_ may sing,
With her sorrowful king,
_Nunc dimittis_ instead of _Te Deum_.
From this dream of success,
They'll awaken, we guess,
At the sound of great Marlborough's drums,
They may think, if they will,
Of Ahnanza still,
But 'tis Blenheim wherever he comes.
O _Lewis[5]_ perplex'd,
What general next!
Thou hast hitherto changed in vain;
He has beat 'em all round,
If no new one's found,
He shall beat 'em over again.
We'll let _Tallard_ out,
If he'll take t'other bout;
And much he's improved, let me tell ye,
With _Nottingham_ ale
At every meal,
And good beef and pudding in belly.


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