The Warlike Monarch. OR, King William's Princely Courage, and Resolution, for Reducing the King- dom of Ireland in his own Person by his Care and Conduct. To the Tune of, Touch of the Times. Licensed according to Order.
|
LET true hearted Subjects now merrily sing
|
The Glory and Fame of a Protestant King,
|
Whose Courage and Valour the World cannot stain,
|
He crossed the Ocean our Rights to regain;
|
And now he's resolved to venture once more
|
To fight the proud Foe, on the Irish shore:
|
King William in Person right valiantly goes,
|
God grant him a Blessing to conquer his Foes.
|
His Presence will Valour and Courage create,
|
Through all the whole Army; no Monarch of late
|
Was ever endu'd with such Courage as he,
|
[As] Head of his force in field he will be:
|
True Protestant Boys, that will fight by his side,
|
In order to pull down the Catholick Pride:
|
King William in Person right valiantly goes,
|
God grant him a Blessing to conquer his Foes.
|
All things for the War are preparing with speed,
|
An Army we have, Boys, will make them to bleed;
|
Under good King William they'll win Day, or dye,
|
They scorn from the Face of a Tory to fly,
|
But charge and discharge from the front to the Rear,
|
Until the whole Kingdom of Rebels they clear:
|
Our Monarch in Person he valiantly goes,
|
God grant him a Blessing to conquer our Foes.
|
[? [Kingdom] [?] [?] [?] [?] [?] [I] [hope],
|
We know that the Rebels will tremble for fear,
|
As soon as the Name of King William they hear,
|
And that with an Army he enters the Land,
|
Those Rebels will never be able to stand;
|
And therefore King William in Person he goes,
|
[God] grant [him] a Blessing to conquer his Foes.
|
The noble Commanders, with Protestant Boys,
|
Will soon rout the French and the Irish Dear-joys;
|
In Battel the sweet silver Trumpet shall sound,
|
The Drums they shall beat, and the Canons resound;
|
With fire and Sword, Boys, we them will pursue,
|
Until we have routed the rebellious Crew
|
King William in Person his Life will expose,
|
God grant him a Blessing to conquer his Foes.
|
The stout armed Troops first shall enter the Fray,
|
While flourishing Colours in Field we'll display;
|
The Canons shall roar, and the Smoke then arise,
|
Whose thick cloudy Vapours shall darken the Skies;
|
The French shall the fury of Protestants feel,
|
We'll chase them with Swords, Boys, of tempered steel:
|
King William in Person he valiantly goes,
|
God grant him a Blessing to conquer his Foes.
|
The Protestant Army of Fame and Renown,
|
Will venture their Lives to pull Popery down,
|
As having King William and Schomberg in Field,
|
Who never did yet to an Enemy yield:
|
Renowned stout Souldiers may glory this Spring,
|
That shall be led on by a Protestant King:
|
May Angels still guard him wherever he goes,
|
To vanquish and conquer his insolent Foes.
|
The Irish shore must the Theatre be,
|
For acting this bloody and sharp Tragedy,
|
King William himself will espousing our cause,
|
Preserving our Lives with Religion and Laws:
|
Let those that the Protestant Faith do profess,
|
Afford him their Prayers, for they can do no less:
|
Since in his own Person he valiantly goes,
|
God grant him a Blessing to conquer his Foes.
|
|
|
|
|
|