VIENNA'S Triumph;
WITH THE
Whigg's Lamentation
For the Overthrow of the TURKS.
To the Tune of, Now now the fight's done.
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NOw now's the Siege rais'd,
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and the numerous Train
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Of the Turks, Jove be prais'd,
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are Defeated again:
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Their Mahomets aid,
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they in vain did implore,
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And they swear they'l not trust
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the dull God any more:
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The Sham of the Load-stone,
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at last they have found,
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And their God is Condemn'd
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to be laid under ground.
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II.
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Let the English give praise,
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let all Christendom joyn,
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In singing of Lays,
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to the Powers Divine,
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Vienna once more
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hath the Victory won,
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And the TURKS though so mighty
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are put to the run:
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The Gyant Goliah
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by David was slain,
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Thus who fight against Heaven,
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do fight but in vain.
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III.
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The Grand Viziers fled,
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in vain he did boast,
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And 'twill cost him his Head,
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since the Battle he lost:
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His many of Thousands,
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he Invincible thought,
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Yet they by few hundreds,
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to Confusion were brought;
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To the great King of Poland,
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let the Honour redound,
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Whose actions with Credit,
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and Fame do abound.
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IV.
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To the Duke of Lorrain,
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great praises are due,
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Who had Fought but in vain,
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if proud words had prov'd true:
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At the Emperor's Threats,
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he laught in his sleeve,
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And all his great proffers,
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he scorn'd to believe:
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But Great as he was,
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he withstood all their Charms,
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Chusing rather to dye
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in his Country-mens Arms.
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V.
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His Loyalty true
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all the World doth admire,
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But the Whiggs who look blue,
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and Commotions desire:
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Ruine and strife is
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Whiggs Element still,
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They'r an obstinate People,
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if crost in their Will:
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And what their Will is,
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is as hard to be known,
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As it is to find out
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the Philosophers Stone.
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VI.
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No Devotion but theirs,
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all others they say,
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Of the Devil are Snares,
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for to lead us astray:
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The Pope to avoid,
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they'l do what they can,
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And instead of an Image,
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they'l Worship a Man:
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To the Turks they no Martyrs
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but Converts would be,
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But in time we may see
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them all dye by the Tree.
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