But where the good and brave command,
What capitol, what bulwark can withstand?
Virtue, approv'd of heav'n, can pass
Thro' walls, thro' tow'rs, and gates of brass.
Lisle, like a mistress, had been courted long,
By all the valiant and the young,
The fairest progeny of Vauban's art;
'Till SAVOY'S warlike prince withstood
Her frowning terrors, and thro' seas of blood
Tore the bright darling from th' old tyrant's heart.
Such Buda saw him, when proud Apti fell,
Unhappy, valiant infidel!
Who, vanquish'd by superior strength,
Surrender'd up his haughty breath,
Upon the breach measuring his manly length,
And shun'd the bow-string by a nobler death.