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 Where hall we all their Ancient Glory trace,

The forward nations court the very Race:

Not Europe ventures to commence a War

But Caledonian Blood demands her Share,

And if 'tis bought or old, 'tis always very dear

Leipick—a Name in Fames red letter'd Roll

Matchles in War, where from the Frozen Pole

Finland ent Monters, Strangers to the Sun,

Bred up to fight, by great Gutave led on;

And yet by hardy naked Scots out-done.

Voracious Tilly jut made drunk with Blood,

At Magdeburgh he rai'd the Crimon Flood,

Tho gorg'd with Slaughter, yet a Thirt for more,

Approach't, all Europe trembled at his Power.

In Leipick Plain the dreadful Scene begun,

On brighter Deeds the Sun himelf ne're hone.