SIR,
Since Mr. Tate, the Poet Laureat, is so modest as not to publish the Song which he compos’d on Occasion of His Majesty’s Birth-Day, ’tis hop’d you will oblige the Publick, by inserting it in your Paper.
Mr. Tate, the Poet Laureat’s Song, for His Majesty’s / Birth-Day, May the 28th. 1715.
Arise, Harmonious Pow’rs,
From your Elysian Bow’rs,
And Nymphs Heliconian Springs ;
To caress the Royal Day,
That such a Blessing did convey,
No less a Blessing than the best of Kings.
Yet in the Transport of your Joys,
Beware the Sacreligious Crime,
Of trespassing upno the Monarch’s Time;
Which since for Common Welfare he employs
The Muses Tribe would wrong
The Publick Int’rest to detain him long.
Only Britannia say,
Her happy Days commence again,
That all her Sorrow shall repay,
And rescue her Renown;
Since Glorious GEORGE accepts the Brittish Crown,
And kindly condescends to Reign.
When Kings, that make the Publick Good their Care,
Advance in Dignity and State,
Their Rise no Envy can create;
Because their Subjects in their Grandeur share,
For like the Sun, the higher they ascend,
The farther their Indulgent Beams extend.
Yet long before our Royal SUN,
His destined Course has run,
We’re blest to see a Glorious HEIR,
That shall the mighty Loss repair,
When he that blazes now, shall this low Sphere resign,
In a sublimer Orb eternally to shine.
A CYNTHIA too, adorn’d with ev’ry Grace
Of Person and of Mind,
And happy in a Starry Race,
Of such Auspicious Kind,
As joyfully presage,
To want of Royal Heirs, in any future Age.
CHORUS.
Honour’d with the best of Kings,
And a Sett of lovely Springs
From the Roayl Fountain flowing
Lovely Streams, and ever Growing.
Happy Britain, past expressing,
Only know to prize the Blessing.
|