The Royal Conquest, OR, The Happy Success against a Potent Enemy.  
As it was Sung in the Prophetess at the Queen's Theatre.  
To a New Playhouse Tune.  
Licenced according to Order.  

1.  
LEt the Soldiers rejoice,  
With a general Voice,  
And the Senate new Honours decree 'em;  
Who at his Arms head,  
Struck the fell Monster dead,  
And so boldly, so boldly, and bravely did fr●e ' 'em.   

2.  
To Mars let 'em raise,  
And their Emperor's praise,  
A Trophy of the Arms own making:  
To Maximinian too,  
Some Honours are due,  
Who joined, who joined in the brave Undertaking.   

3.  
With Flowers let them strew  
The way as they go,  
Their Statues with Garlands adorning;  
Who from tyrannies night,  
Drove the Mists in their sight,  
And gave them, and gave them a glorious Morning   

4.  
Let all Glory and State  
On his Royalty wait,  
Great William the true Faith's defender;  
Wheresoever he goes,  
Still he conquers his Foes,  
Mighty Cities and Castles to him does surrender.   

5.  
Let the Catholics frown,  
While their Cause tumbles down,  
It is not proud France can restore 'em,  
Our great Monarch of fame  
Will his Enemies tame,  
For his army, his army doth drive all before ' 'em.   

6.  
For they'll die ere they'll flinch,  
Or give back an inch,  
But fight under the Noble Banner,  
Of that sovereign Lord,  
Whose Conquering sword,  
Shall crown him, shall crown him with trophies of honour   

7.  
Boys be Loyal to him,  
Fill the bowl to the brim,  
Heavens bless him from secret Malice,  
Let the sweet trumpets sound,  
As the Bumpers go round,  
Likewise wish him, lads, wish him, safe home to his Palace.   

8.  
As he sails to the shore,  
Let the loud Cannons roar  
Like the Claps of invincible thunder,  
Our joys to express,  
For his Royal success,  
Having filled the whole Kingdom, the Kingdom with wonder.   

9  
For the Protestants they,  
who in close Prisons lay,  
Are Released by his Conquering Power,  
when the French bloody Crew  
He did rarely subdue,  
Who was forced in Confusion to scamper and scour   

10.  
Let the bells ring for joy,  
While the French we destroy,  
And make the poor tories run nimble,  
And in time we'll advance  
To the Kingdom of France,  
where we'll make the proud insolent Tyrant to tremble.    

Printed for Charles Bates at the Sun and Bible in Pie-corner.