AIR
God of Musick, Verse, and Day,
Hither, hither haste away:
Nor forget with thee to bring,
Health to fair Britannia’s King.
There thy utmost Art display
God of Musick, Verse and Day.

RECITATIVO.
See! See! To crown our Biss the God complies,
Uncloud his Beams, and blazes ’round the Skies.
He comes, and his own Harmony inspires;
Soft breath the Flutes, and various swell the Lyres.
Listen, O! listen to th’enchanting Sound,
While the sweet Lute in Warblings dies around.
Now pleas’d he sings the British Caesar’s Praise;
Immortal Acts demand immortal Lays.

AIR
Tho’ your own Apollo sings,
Fav’rite Nymphs your Succour lend me,
Each with Voice, and Harp attend me,
And unlock the sacred Springs:
I have sung of mighty Things,
Kindred Gods, and God-like Kings:
Here the big Exploits transcend me,
And too weighty press the Strings,
Tho’ your own Apollo sings.

RECITATIVO
Thou, Danow, must the Warrior know,
Who purple taught thy Streams to flow:
And thou, Morëa, sure cans’t tell
By whom thy slaughter’d Thousands sell.
Ask, whom bad Princes fear,
Ask, whom the Good revere:
Or ask the Powers of Spain,
To whom ’tis giv’n to reign
Unbound o’er the Main.

AIR
Learn, Albion, learn to know thy Blessing,
A King, like thine, is worth possessing.
Past Triumphs thou hast seen surprising,
But I foresee new Glories rising.
Blind Faction if thou wilt be doing,
The Delphick tells thee ’tis thy Ruin
See Europe ’round thy King caressing,
Learn, Albion, learn to know thy Blessing.

CHORUS
Now all your Lyres, and all your Voices join
To praise that Monarch, where all Virtues shine.
To me my Delos, fix’d, her Safety owes,
To George Britannia, sav’d, her free Repose.
Nor can I fonder on lov’d Delos smile,
Than the great Brunswick on Britannia’s Isle.

FINIS..