The Bloody Siege of VIENNA▪
A SONG.
Wherein the Turks have lost One Hundred and Sixty Thousand Men; being the greatest Victory that ever was obtained over the Turks, since the Foundation of the Ottoman Empire. Written by an English Gentleman Volunteer, that was at the Garrison during the Seige.
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THE Gods are now in Council sat,
For to survey the Worlds debate;
Both
Mars and
Jove incensed are
'Gainst Treason and Rebellious War:
This is the Fatal Year Design'd,
To crush the Faction in all parts;
The
Algerines are all confin'd
To pay for all their Thieving Arts.
But
HUNGARY, that Bloody
Sceen,
Of which the
German Whiggs have been
The provocation, and the Cause,
'Gainst God, the Emperour, and their Laws,
Yet still pretend Religion;
At the same time brought in the
Turk,
They all are turn'd
Mahometan,
Like ours, against the
Duke of York.
Their Soveraign Lord the Emperour,
Ingag'd 'gainst the
French in War:
Then, then those Bloody Rebels rose,
Surpriz'd his Friends with mortal blows;
They Sacrific'd Peasant and Peer,
With Fier and Sword, they laid all wast:
No Quarter gave for Seven Year,
Then brought the
Turk to Burn the rest.
Three Hundred Thousand
Turks in Rage,
Who never spared Sex nor Age;
In Seven Hundred Leagues they Marcht,
Till they
VIENNA did Invest:
They raised Batteries round the Town,
Which did Command the highest
Towers;
Candy, nor
Rhoads, nor Christian Crown,
Was never assaulted by such Powers.
Then all the Skies in Black did Mourn,
As if the Town like
TROY might Burn:
Then just as
JOVE doth shake the World,
With Thunder-Claps their Balls were hurl'd
Against our Walls, the Gates, and Forts,
Each shot Two Hundred Pound in weight:
Their Shouts and Yells, and Guns Reports,
As if the Furies came to Fight.
The
Christians answered them agen,
More like to Angels, then like Men:
Our Canonneers with Courage stands,
Three times dismounted their great Guns;
Each time our Souldiers sallied forth,
Kill'd all that durst oppose their Arms:
Each
Christian Sword, for ten too hard,
Which gave their Camps too true Alarms.
A Hundred Mines at least they sprung,
Our Works blown up, both small and strong,
Quartered Men blown in the Air,
Kill, Kill, was all the Language there:
Their Trenches fill'd with slaughtered
Turks,
Their Camp infected by the smell;
Guns went thump, thump;
Plague Dam the Rump,
That taught all Nations to Rebel.
This Thunder, Tempest, Fire, and Blood,
We Fifty Days and Nights withstood;
Their Treacherous Mines we Countermin'd,
And Kill'd their Miners there confin'd:
We Kill'd'em Seventy Thousand Men,
Of our Fifteen was left but Five;
Brave
POLAND then, like
Caesar, came
the Captive Town for to releive.
Like Gods the
Christians made their way,
As if they scorn'd to loose the day:
And to Revenge the
Christian Cause,
They layed in more then Humane Blows;
And Fighting through their Ranks by force,
At every blow cut down a
Turk:
To th' Knees in Blood, Run, Run that cou'd,
The
Christians then had done their Work▪
Like Fiends before the approaching Sun,
The
Turks before the
Chr
[...]stians Run;
Their Gold and Jewels, Tents and Guns,
Fell all into the
Christians Hands:
No
Tecklet all this Brunt appear'd,
Jack Presbyter lik'd not the sport;
And the
Turk doth Swear, this Thousand Year,
He'l come no more at th'
Emperour's Court.
LONDON, Printed for J. Dean, Bookseller in Cranborn-street, in Leicester ▪Fields, near Newport-House.