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Royal youth ! what bard divine,
Equal to a praise like thine,
Shall in some exalted measure
Sing thee, Britain's dearest treasure ?
Who her joy in thee ihall tell,
Who the sprightly note shall fwell
His voice attempering to the tuneful shell?
Thee Audenard's recorded field,
Bold in thy brave paternal band, beheld,
And saw with hopeless heart thy fainting rival yield :
Troubled he, with fore dismay,
To thy stronger fate gave way,
Safe beneath thy noble scorn,
Wingy-footed was he borne,
Swift as the fleeting shades upon the golden corn.
What valour, what distinguish'd worth,
From thee shall lead the coming ages forth?
Crested helms and shining shields,
Warriors fam'd in foreign fields;
Hoary heads with olive bound,
Kings and lawgivers renown'd;
Crowding still they rise anew,
Beyond the reach of deep prophetic view.
Young Augustus ! never cease!
Pledge of our present and our future peace,
Still pour the blessings forth, and give thy great increase.
All the stock that fate ordains
To supply succeeding reigns,
Whether glory shall inspire
Gentler arts or martial fire,
Still the fair descent shall be
Dear to Albion all, like thee,
Patrons of righteous rules, and foes to tyranny.
Ye golden lights who shine on high,
Ye potent planets who ascend the sky,
On the opening year dispense
Heavenly powers be all prepard
For our Carolina's guard ;
Short and easy be the pains,
Which for a nation's weal the heroine fustains.
Britannia's angel, be thou near ;
The growing race is thy peculiar care,
Oh spread thy sacred wing above the royal fair.
George by thee was wafted o'er,
To the long expected shore :
None presuming to withstand
Thy celestial armed hand,
While, his sacred head to thade,
The blended cross on high thy filver shield display'd.
But oh! what other form divine
Propitious near the hero ems to shine !
Peace of inind, and joy ferene,
In her sacred eyes are seen,
Honour binds her mitred brow,
Faith and truth beside her go,
With zeal and pure devotion bending low.
A thousand storms around her threat,
A thousand billows roar beneath her feet,
While, fix'd upon a rock, he keeps her stable feat.
Still in sign of sure defence,
Trust and mutual confidence,
On the monarch, standing by,
Still the bends her gracious eye, · Nor fears her foes approach, while heaven and he are nigh.
Hence then with every anxious care !
Be gone, pale Envy, and thou cold Despair !
Seek ye out a moody cell,
Where deceit and treason dwell;
There repining, raging, still
The idle air with curses fill;
There blast the pathless wild, and the bleak northern
exile vainly moan ; There where, with murmurs horrid as your own, Beneath the sweeping winds, the bending forests groan ;
But thou, Hope, with smiling chear,
Do thou bring the ready year ;
See the hours! a chosen band!
See with jocund looks they stand,
All in their trim array, and waiting for command.
The welcome train begins to move,
Hope leads increase and chaste connubial love :
Flora sweet her bounty spreads,
Smelling gardens, painted meads ;
Ceres crowns the yellow plain ;
Pan rewards the ihepherd's pain;
All is plenty, all is wealth,
And on the balmy air fits rofy-colour'd health.
I hear the mirth, I hear the land rejoice,
Like many waters swells the pealing noise,
While to their monarch, thus, they raise the public voiceo
Father of thy country, hail !
Always every where prevail;
Pious, valiant, just, and wise,
Better suns for thee arise,
Purer breezes fan the skies,
Earth in fruits and flowers is drest;
Joy abounds in every breast,
For thee thy people all, for thee the year
FOR THE KING'S BIRTH-DAY,
MAY 28, 1716.
LAY thy flowery garlands by,
Ever-blooming gentle May !
Other honours now are nigh;
Other honours lee we pay.
Lay thy flowery garlands by, &c.
Majesty and great renown
Wait thy beamy brow to crown.
Parent of our hero, thou,
George on Britain didst bestow.
Thee the trumpet, thee the drum,
With the plumy helm, become :
Thee the fpear and shining ihield,
With every trophy of the warlike field.
Call thy better blessings.forth,
For the honour of his birth :
Still the voice of loud commotion,
Bid complaining murmurs cease,
Lay the billows of the ocean ;
And compose the land in peace.
Call thy better, &c.
Queen of odours, fragrant May,
For this boon, this happy day,
Janus with the double face
Shall to thee resign his place,
Thou shalt rule with better grace :
Time from thee shall wait his doom,
And thou shalt lead the
every age to come.
Fairest month, in Cæsar pride thee,
Nothing like him canst thou bring,
Though the Graces smile beside thee :
Though thy bounty gives the Spring.