The Courtly Triumph,
OR,
King William' s Welcome from the IRISH Wars.
To the Tune of, Valiant Jockey . Licensed according to Order.
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I.
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LET us all rejoyce amain,
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King William is return'd again.
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From the Irish Wars with Victory,
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Where he made his greatest Foes to flee:
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Angels guards him to his Throne,
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Where we will all his Power own;
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He that thus has ventur'd for our sake,
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Making the proud Enemies to quake.
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This being done, the Rebels run,
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Thus our gracious King the Glory won;
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His Royal Name doth purchase Fame,
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While his Enemies are cloth'd with Shame.
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II.
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In a Month or less, brave Boys,
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King William routed the Dear Joys ;
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And the bloudy minded French we find,
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Who did fly like Chaff before the Wind;
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For no sooner did they hear
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King William was approaching near,
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But from place to place they took their flight,
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Till at length they were defeated quite:
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Having subdu'd the Rebels rude,
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Now his Army may the Work conclude;
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Our King therefore is sail'd o'er
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From the Irish to the English Shore.
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III.
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Then the Seas was calm and fair,
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For to conduct our King with care,
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Still attended with soft pleasant Gales,
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The which fill'd his Royal swelling Sails;
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Till at length he came to Land,
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Where many Loyal Souls did stand,
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Ready to receive his Majesty,
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Who maintains our Laws and Liberty,
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Shouting amain, Long live and Reign,
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Joyful to behold their King again;
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Mirth did abound, even Healths went round,
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Till they made the Elements resound.
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IV.
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From the Noble to the Mean,
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True Joy on every Brow was seen,
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For his safe Arrival Home again,
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To behold his Queen and Courtly Train:
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Boys, the Bells did sweetly Ring,
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To welcome Home our Gracious King;
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As he passed through ev'ry Town,
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None but Roman Catholicks could frown;
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But honest Souls in flowing Bowls,
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Freely did express their Loyalty,
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Wishing true Peace soon may encrease,
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That he many happy Years may see.
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V.
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Trophies Crown'd his Royal Head,
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While Fame the joyful Tydings spread,
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From the British to the Holland Shore,
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Where their Cannons did like Thunder Roar,
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This glad Tydings to Proclaim,
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Of Thrice Renowned William's Name,
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Who has made the French and Rebels yield,
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While he rid in Triumph through the Field
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Proud France shall feel his Sword of Steel,
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Till they at His Feet for Mercy kneel;
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With hardy Blows he treats his Foes,
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Till he Conquers all where e're he goes.
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FINIS.
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