An excellent Ditty made upon the great victory, which the French
king obtayned against the Duke de Maine, and the Romish Rebels in his kingdome,
upon Ashwednesday being the fourth day of March last past. 1590.
To the tune of the new Tantara.
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TRiumph good Christians and rejoyce,
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This wondrous newes to heare:
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Wherein the power of mightie Jove,
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So greatly doth appeare.
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God is the stay and strength of those
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That in him puts his trust:
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And what he ever promiste them,
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He keepeth firme and just.
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Let canons rore and Muskets shoote,
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Let Fife and Ensignes play:
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Let Trumpets shrill and dubbing drums,
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Sound forth this joyfull day.
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Who knows not how the Duke de Maine,
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By title from the Gwize,
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Hath sought to rule as king in Fraunce.
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And caus[?]
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All joinde themselves in battaile ray,
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Upon firme land in Fraunce,
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Entending to have slaine the king,
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Yet had a worser chaunce.
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Let canons rore and Muskets shoote etc.
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Whereby the enemy was that time,
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Full thirtie thousand strong:
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The king his power was but weake,
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To right his open wrong.
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He had not past ten thousand men,
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In his defence to fighte,
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Which was great ods as all men knowes,
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To put all these to flight.
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Let canons rore [and] Muskets shoote etc.
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In valiaunt sorte he cheerd his men,
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And lovingly he saide:
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God is with us, our quarrels good,
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Be therefore not dismaide.
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My trust is still that as the Lord,
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Hath me before defended:
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So he will fighte against my foes,
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That have my death pretended.
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Let canons rore and Muskets shoote etc.
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My quarrell doth pertaine to God,
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In whom I put my trust:
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And in the promise he hath made,
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I know he wil be just.
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Be valiaunt now and fight like men,
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And God will bee your guide:
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And I with you will spend my blood,
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And not once step aside.
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Let canons rore and Muskets shoote etc.
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Together then the Armies went,
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Which made a wondrous shoe:
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On either side they fought full fierce,
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Ech sought the others woe.
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The Canons roard and Muskets shotte,
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And made a warlike noies:
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Their Trompets sound and dubbing drums,
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Encreaste the souldiers joies.
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Let canons rore and Muskets shoote etc.
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The Fife made warlike melody,
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The ensignes were displaied:
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On either side they curredge cride,
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The king was not dismaied.
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But like a Souldiour and a king,
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A standard he did take:
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And slew the man that bare the same,
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Which made his enemies quake.
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Let canons rore and Muskets shoote etc.
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The Duke de Maine for all his power,
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Was forste from field to flie:
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His heeles were better then his hands,
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He fought so valiauntly.
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His power was stricken with such feare,
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That they did flie in haste:
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Whereby the king did win the field,
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His enemies were disgraste.
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Let canons rore and Muskets shoote etc.
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He and his power did follow them,
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Full five howres in the chase:
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From eight at morne til toward night,
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He fought in the enemies face.
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This victory he did obtaine,
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Such was his good succes,
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And many thousand enimies slaine,
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Report saieth sure no les.
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Let canons rore and Muskets shoote etc.
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What tents and furniture for warre,
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What treasure and jewels rich:
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Hereby the king and soldiours got,
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You may suppose was miche.
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And prisoners taken of account,
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As you shall shortly heere,
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Who for their treason to their king,
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I thinke will pay full deere.
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Let canons rore and Muskets shoote etc.
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See here the handyworke of God,
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Who harmles savde the king.
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And sent him treasure in great store,
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And every warlike thing.
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