An English ballad in answer to Mr. Despreaux's Pindarique ode on the taking of Namure Prior, Matthew, 1664-1721. 1695 Approx. 15 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 8 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-09 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A55904 Wing P3509 ESTC R21247 12360277 ocm 12360277 60207

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A55904) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 60207) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 222:5) An English ballad in answer to Mr. Despreaux's Pindarique ode on the taking of Namure Prior, Matthew, 1664-1721. Boileau Despréaux, Nicolas, 1636-1711. Ode sur la prise de Namur. [1], 7, 7 p. Printed for Jacob Tonson ..., London : 1695. Text of Boileau-Despréaux's "Ode sur la prise de Namur" in French, and Prior's ballad, on opposite pages; paged in duplicate. Attributed to Matthew Prior. Cf. Wing. First ed. Cf. BM. Reproduction of original in Harvard University Libraries.

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 eng Boileau Despréaux, Nicolas, 1636-1711. -- Ode sur la prise de Namur. 2003-04 Assigned for keying and markup 2003-05 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-06 Sampled and proofread 2003-06 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-08 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

AN English Ballad: In ANSWER to Mr. DESPREAUX's Pindarique ODE On the Taking of NAMURE.

Dulce est desipere in loco.

LONDON, Printed for Iacob Tonson, at the Iudge's Head near the Inner Temple Gate in Fleetstreet, MDCXCV.
ODE sur la PRISE DE NAMUR. QUELLE docte & sainte yvresse Aujourd'hui me fait la loy? Chastes Nymphes du Permesse, N'est ce pas vous que je voy? Accourez, Troupe sçavante, Des sons que ma Lyre enfante Ces arbres sont réjouïs. Marquez-en bien la cadence; Et vous, Vents, faites silence: Je vais parler de LOUIS. Dans ses chansons immorteles, Comme un Aigle audacieux, Pindare estendant ses aisles, Fuit loin des vulgaires yeux. Mais, ô ma fidele Lyre, Si, dans l'ardeur qui m'inspire, Tu peux suivre mes transports; Les chesnes des monts de Thrace N'ont rien ouï que n'efface La douceur de tes accords. Est-ce Apollon, & Neptune Qui sur ces Rocs sourcilleux, Ont, compagnons de fortune, Basti ces murs orgueilleux? De leur enceinte fameuse La Sambre unie à la Meuse Deffend le fatal abord, Et par cent bouches horribles L'airain sur ces monts terribles Vômit le fer, & la mort. Dix mille vaillans Alcides Les bordant de toutes parts, D'éclairs au loin homicides Font petiller leurs remparts: Et dans son sein infidele Par tout la terre y recele Un feu prest à s'élancer Qui soudain perçant son goufre, Ouvre un sepulchre de soufre A quiconque ose avancer. Namur, devant tes murailles Jadis la Grece eust vingt ans Sans fruit veu les funerailles De ses plus fiers Combattans. Quelle effroiable Puissance Aujourd'huy pourtant s'avance Preste à foudroyer tes monts! Quel bruit, quel feu l'environnel C'est Jupiter en personne, Ou c'est le Vainqueur de Mons. N'en doute point, c'est Lui-mesme. Tout brille en Lui, Tout est Roy, Dans Bruxelles Nassau blême Commence à trembler pour toy. En vain il void le Batâve Desormais docile esclâve Rangé sous ses étendars: En vain au Lion Belgique Il void l'Aigle Germanique Uni sous les Leopards. Plein de la frayeur nouvelle Dont ses sens sont agités, A son secours il appelle Les Peuples les plus vantés. Ceux-là viennent du rivage Où s'énorgueillit le Tage De l'or qu'il roule en ses eaux; Ceux-ci des champs où la nege Des marais de la Norvege Neuf mois couvre les roseaux. Mais qui fait enfler la Sambre? Sous les Jumeaux effrayés, Des froids torrens de Decembre Les champs par tout sont noyés. Cerés s'enfuit éplorée De voir en proye à Borée Ses guerets d'épics chargés, Et sous les urnes fangeuses Des Hyades orageuses Tous ses trésors submergés. Déployez toutes vos rages Princes, Vents, Peuples, Frimats, Ramassez tous vos nuages; Rassemblez tous vos Soldats. Malgré vous Namur en poudre S'en va tomber sous la foudre Qui dompta l'Isle, Courtray, Gand la superbe Espagnole, Saint Omer, Bezançon, Dole, Ypres, Mastrich, & Cambray. Mes présages s'accomplissent: Il commence à chanceler. Sous les coups qui retentissent Ses murs s'en vont s'écrouler. Mars en feu qui les domine Soufle à grand bruit leur ruine, Et les bombes dans les airs Allant chercher le tonnerre. Semblent, tombant sur la Terre, Vouloir s'ouvrir les Enfers. Accourez, Nassau, Baviere, De ces murs l'unique espoir: A couvert d'une riviere Venez, vous pouvez tout voir. Considerez ces approches: Voyez grimper sur ces roches Ces Athletes belliqueux; Et dans les eaux, dans la flâme, LOUIS à tout donnant l'ame, Marcher, courir avecque eux. Contemplez dans la tempeste Qui sort de ces Boulevars, La plume qui sur sa teste Attire tous les regards. A cet Astre redoubtable Toûjours un sort favorable S'attache dans les combats: Et toûjours avec la Gloire Mars amenant la Victoire, Vôle, & le suit à grand pas. Grands deffenseurs de l'Espagne, Monstrez-vous, il en est temps. Courage, vers la Mehagne Voila vos drapeaux flottans. Jamais ses ondes craintives N'ont veu sur leurs foibles rives Tant de guerriers s'amasser. Courez done. Qui vous retarde? Tout l'Univers vous regarde. N'osez-vous la traverser? Loin de fermer le passage A vos nombreux bataillons, Luxembourg a du rivage Reculé ses pavillons. Quoy? leur seul aspect vous glace? Où sont ses Chefs pleins d'audace Jadis si prompts à marcher, Qui devoient de la Tamise, Et de la Drâve soûmise, Jusqu'à Paris nous chercher? Cependant l'effroy redouble Sur les remparts de Namur. Son Gouverneur qui se trouble S'enfuit sous son dernier mur. Déja jusques à ses portes Je voy monter nos cohortes La flâme & le fer en main: Et sur les monceaux de piques, De corps morts, de rocs, de briques, S'ouvrir un large chemin. C'en est fait. Je viens d'entendre Sur ces rochers éperdus Battre un signal pour se rendre: Le feu cesse. Ils sont rendus. Dépoüillez vostre arrogance, Fiers Ennemis de la France, Et desormais gracieux, Allez à Liege, à Bruxelles, Porter les humbles nouvelles De Namur pris à vos yeux. Pour moy, que Phebus anime De ses transports les plus doux, Rempli de ce Dieu sublime, Je vais, plus hardi que vous, Montrer que sur le Parnasse, Des bois frequentés d'Horace Ma Muse dans son declin, Sçait encor les avenuës, Et des sources inconnuës A l'Auteur du Saint Paulin. Poëme Heroïque du sieur P **. Fin de l'ODE.
AN English Ballad: In ANSWER to Mr. Despreaux's Pindarique ODE on the Taking of NAMURE. WAS you not drunk, and did not know it, When you thought Phoebus gave you Law? Or was it not, good Brother Poet, The chaste Nymph Maintenon you saw? She charm'd you sure, or what's the matter, That Oaks must come from Thrace to dance? If Stocks must needs be taught to flatter, You'll find enough of them in France. Why must the Winds all hold their Tongue? If they a little Breath should raise, Would that have spoil'd the Poet's Song, Or pust away the Monarch's Praise? 2. Pindar, that Eagle, mounts the Skies; Whilst Virtue leads the noble way: Des Preaux, a Vulture, only flies Where sordid Interest seeks the Prey. When once the Poet's Conscience ceases, His Measures soon from Truth will rove; Give Boileau but Five Hundred Pieces, And Louis takes the Wall of Iove. 3. Neptune, and Sol, came from above; Shap'd like Megrigny, and Vauban, They arm'd these Rocks, then show'd old Iove At Trianon the wondrous Plan. Such Walls these three wise Gods agreed By Human Force could ne'er be shaken; But, Boileau, we who Homer read, Find Gods as well as Men mistaken. Sambre and Maese their Waves may join, But ne'er can WILLIAM's Force restrain, He'll pass them both, who pass'd the Boyn: Remember this, and Arm the Sein. 4. Full Fifteen Thousand lusty Fellows With Fire and Sword the Fort maintain; Each was a Hercules, you tell us, Yet they march'd but like other Men. Cannons above, and Mines below Did Death and Tombs for Us contrive, Yet WILLIAM order'd matters so, That few were there but are alive. 5. Why is Namure compar'd to Troy? Are We then braver than the Greeks? Their Siege did Ten long Years employ, We've done our bus'ness in Ten Weeks. What Godhead does so fast advance? What Power Divine those Hills regain? 'Tis Brittain's KING, the Scourge of France, No Godhead, but the first of Men. His Arm shall keep your Victor under, And Europe's Liberty restore; Your Iupiter must quit his Thunder, And fright the injur'd World no more. 6. Whilst WILLIAM trembles at Namure, Great Villeroy who ne'er afraid is, To Bruxels marches on secure, To Bomb the Monks, and scare the Ladies. Add to this Glorious Expedition One more, and then thy Fame is Crown'd, Perform thy Master's high Commission; For William ne'er will stand his Ground. Kings are allow'd to feign the Gout, Or be prevail'd with not to fight; And mighty Louis hop'd no doubt, That William would preserve that Right. 7. He comes, this mighty Marshal comes, But finds a River in his way; He waves his Colours, beats his Drums, Yet thinks it Prudence there to stay. Ban and Arriereban, all appear, Great Armies, would they march but faster; But Vill'roy moves so slowly here, One would have thought it was his Master. 8. Will no kind Floud, no friendly Rain Disguise a General's Disgrace; No Torrents swell this low Mehayne, The World will say, He durst not pass. The Water-Nymphs are all unkind, We hope the Land-Nymphs are not so: Or Fortune sure with Love has join'd To fail a General and a Beau. 9. Truth, Justice, Sense, Religion, Fame May join to finish WILLIAM's Story; Nation's combin'd may bless his Name, And France in secret own his Glory. Yet, Boileau, we'll take t'other Strain In Honour of that greater Prince, Who lost Namure the same Campaign He bought Dixmuyd, and conquer'd Deynse. 10. 'Tis done, Great Louis, Troops advance, Mars speaks thro' Cannons Mouths in Fire; That is, one Mareschal of France Tells t'other, he dare come no nigher. 11. Regain the Lines the shortest way, Villeroy, or to Versailles take Post; For you that saw it best can say The Steps by which Namure was lost. Think not what Reasons to produce From Louis to conceal your Fear; He'll own the Strength of your Excuse, Tell him that WILLIAM was but there. 12. But where is now great Louis Feather, That wav'd so glorious from afar? The Generals could not come together, Without the Lustre of that Star. Ah, Poet, thou hadst been discreeter, Since thou would'st hang his Hat so high, If thou had'st call'd it but a Meteor, That blaz'd a while, and then God b'y. 13. To animate the doubtful Fight, The World in vain expects that Ray; In vain France hopes the Sickly Light May equal WILLIAM's fuller Day. Safe Louis shines, knows his own Station, He likes not any Foreign Sphere; Where you see Boileau's Constellation, Be sure no Danger can be near. Of Death, Pikes, Rocks, Arms, Bricks, and Fire, We'll play three Stanza's, and have done; The Castle yields, the French retire, So keep your Powder in your Gun. Namure by WILLIAM's Arms is freed; For Dixmuyd something yet is due; So good Count Guiscar may proceed; But Boufflers, Sir, one Word with you. March, Foes of France, march on thro' Flanders, Divide to Bruxelles, or to Liege; Nor fear the least these fierce Commanders, Who neither fight, nor raise the Siege. Losing Namure, France gains a Peer; Let WILLIAM's Armies but advance, Bouffler's shall lose Dinant next Year, And be made Constable of France. FINIS.