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| HARK! 1 how the Duke of Lorraine comes. | |
| The brave victorious soul of war; | |
| With trumpets and with kettle-drums. | |
| Like thunder rolling from afar. | |
| |
| On the left wing, the conqu’ring horse, | 5 |
| The brave Bavarian Duke does lead. | |
| These heroes with united force, | |
| Fill all the Turkish host with dread. | |
| |
| Their bright caparisons behold! | |
| Rich habits, streamers, shining arms, | 10 |
| The glittering steel and burnished gold, | |
| The pomp of war with all its charms. | |
| |
| With solemn march, and fatal pace, | |
| They bravely on the foe press on; | |
| The cannons roar, the shot takes place; | 15 |
| Whilst smoke and dust obscure the sun. | |
| |
| The horses neigh, the soldiers shout; | |
| And now the furious bodies join; | |
| The slaughter rages all about; | |
| And men in groans their blood resign. | 20 |
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| The weapons clash; the roaring drum, | |
| With clangour of the trumpets’ sound; | |
| The howls and yells of men o’ercome; | |
| And from the neighbouring hills rebound. | |
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| Now, now, the infidels give place; | 25 |
| Then, all in routs, they headlong fly! | |
| Heroes, in dust, pursue the chase; | |
| While deaf’ning clamours rend the sky. | |
