HONOUR's CALL:
OR
An Invitation to the English YOUTH to the Actions of their Noble
Ancestors, to joyn in the Discent on France, in this Year 1693.
Tune of, If Love's a sweet Passion. Licensed according to Order.
|
COme all you brave gallants, whom honour inspires,
|
And valour inflames with true generous fires,
|
If e're you intend for to purchase renown
|
And by sinking the French, raise the English King's crown:
|
Now, now, is your time for to make a discent,
|
Agreed to by both your King and Parliament.
|
Then raise up our spirits who boast of your blood,
|
And your titles to families great, would make good
|
By your actions now show that it is all your aim
|
By worth and by merit true honour to claim;
|
Go conquer that Monarch who vainly did boast,
|
'Twas the English at last that should pay for the roast,
|
'Tis by your neglect the occasion is given,
|
That your country is yet of that honour bereaven;
|
In glory your ancestors all to outdo,
|
And France in its greatest of power to subdue:
|
Who then can refuse an invasion to make,
|
Would ennable the English, and make the French quake?
|
Then leave off your lolling in the ladies laps,
|
Where nought's to be gain'd but disgraces or claps,
|
And that's all the sum, which with pain you can catch,
|
By staying at home, when abroad you may snatch
|
Bright honour with ease, if o're seas you do go
|
And bravely assault your proud Gallican foe.
|
Let Bacchus no more with his full brimming bowls
|
In his sottish lees drown the generous souls;
|
Your country now calls you unto those alarms
|
Which far do trancend all your punks and wines charms
|
The year sixteen hundred ninety and three,
|
Your names to enternise doth justly agree.
|
'Tis Edward the Black Prince, and Henry doth call,
|
Brave Talbot and Clifford, stout Nevill and all,
|
'Tis Crescy and Poiters, nay, Ag-in-court too,
|
That know if you will you may all them outdo,
|
Why will you be then thus in sluggishness lost,
|
When bravely attempting you may gain the post?
|
You have a stout King which you cannot but own,
|
If you do but follow will bravely lead on;
|
All that went before him he far doth exceed;
|
He that made the Irish, will make the French bleed;
|
And as in the first he did France overthrow,
|
In the latter he'll give the Great Lewis a blow.
|
Now if you have more than the heart of a hen,
|
What your ancestors have done you may do agen:
|
Then play the man briskly, let it not be said,
|
That Lewis or James e're can make you afraid,
|
Let them mumble and grumble, you may tread such a dance,
|
As bravely shall lead to the conquest of France.
|
|
FINIS.
|
|
|
|