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Rh Of gath'ring Crowds the Briton's boasted Chief.

Thus They, in sportive mood, their empty Taunts And Menaces exprest; nor could their Prince In Arms, vain Tallard, from opprobrious Speech Refrain; Why halt ye thus, ye Britons? why Decline the War? shall a Morass forbid Your easie March? Advance; we'll bridge a Way, Safe of Access. Imprudent, thus t'invite A furious Lion to his Folds! that Boast He ill abides, captiv'd in other Plight He soon revisits Britanny, that once Resplendent came, with strech't Retinue girt, And pompous Pageantry; O Hapless Fate, If any Arm, but CHURCHILL's, had prevail'd!

No need such Boasts, or Exprobations false Of Cowardice; the Mound The British Files transcend, in evil Hour For their proud Foes, that fondly brav'd their Fate. And now on either Side the Trumpet blew, Signal of Onset, Resolution firm Inspiring, and pernicious Love of War. The adverse Fronts in rueful Conflict meet, Errata

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