Conamur, tenues, Grandia,
Laudes Egregii Caesaris -------------
Hic Dies vere mihi Festus, atras
Eximer Curas, Ego nec tumultum,
Nec mori per vim metuam, tenente
Caesare terras ------------------- Hor.
By the Revd. MATTHEW PILKINGTON, A. M.
Set to Musick by Matthew Dubourg, Master of the Musick attending His Majesty’s State in Ireland.
DUBLIN:
Printed by S. Powell for George Ewing, at the Angel and Bible in Dame-Street, 1728.

An / ODE / To be performed at the / Castle of DUBLIN, / October the 30th. 1728 &c.

Recit. GREAT, inexhausted Source of Day,
Bright Parent of the genial Ray,
Unfold thy purest Beams of Light,
And bring with thee, enliv’ning Pow’r!
Each silver-wing’d, each blissful Hour,
Joy-creating, rob’d in White.

Aria. Like thee AUGUSTUS reigns below,
From him diffusive Blessings flow,
And cloath’d with Grandure, Glory, Love,
He emulates thy Reign above.
Da Capo.

Aria. ‘Wake the Soul-enchanting Lute,
The warbling Lyre, the breathing Flute,
And touch the Viol into Sound:
With Joy let ev’ry Voice proclaim,
A GEORGE, the fav’rite Son of Fame,
With all exalted Virtues crown’d.
Sacred Wisdom, heav’nly Guest!
And Justice, Attribute divine!
Fix their Empire in his Breast,
And bid the finish’d Hero shine:
Who lends a Lustre to the Throne,
And makes his People’s Joy, his own.
Da Capo.

Recit. This Day be sacred o’er the Earth,
The Day that gave AUGUSTUS Birth.

Aria. Plenty, drest in Smiles appears,
And Learning, beauteous Child of Peace,
Her Angel-form delighted rears,
And Pleasure sports in ev’ry Face;
For He the Sweets of Wealth supplies,
And bids neglected Merit rise.
Da Capo.

Recit. But now the Muse, impetuous, wings her Way
To view him in a nobler Light,
Where, cloath’d with Terrors, thro’ the Fight
He spreads Confusions, Horror, and Dismay:
See! How the British AMMON pours along,
With resistless Torrent’s Rage!
See! See! He burns amidst the thickest Throng,
And dare embody’d Hosts engage!
Slaughter, wastes at his Command,
And Thousands sink beneath his Hand;
Death, and all it’s ghastly Train,
Rave along the purpl’d Plain;
Glory flies before, to charm,
And Conquest quits upon his Arm.
Thro’ the thick-embattl’d Lines
In horrid Pomp Destruction shines,
The Combat bleeds where’er he goes,
And wide the crimson Deluge flows:
While thro’ the vanquish’d Host,
By his intrepid Valour lost,
Amazement, Discord, Terror fly,
And Fear, with oft-reverted Eye.

Aria. Goddess Glory, haste, prepare
The golden wreath for GEORGE’s Brow,
A Prince so worthy of thy Care,
Ne’er Parent Nature form’d till now,
Tho’ CAESAR’s and NASSAU’s Name
Have fill’d the loudest Voice of Fame.
Da Capo.

Aria. Ye ever-watchful guardian Pow’rs
Who findly round AUGUSTUS wait,
Bid the smiling, circling, Houras
Waft new Glories to his State;
On Him let ev’ry Blessing flow
That Man can hope, or Heav’n bestow.
Da Capo.

Corus. On Him let ev’ry Blessing flow
That Man can hope, or Heav’n bestow.

Recit. Heav’n, to grace his Throne inclin’d,
Created, with exactest Care,
A partner, all-surpassing Fair,
And stamp’d Perfection on her Mind.

Aria. Worthy over Hearts to reign
Beauty’s hand thy Person drest,
The Graces too a blooming Train,
In ev’ry Feature Smile confest;
Ev’ry Charm, and Gift Divine,
Lives in Gracious CAROLINE.
Da Capo.

Recit. Innocence, that Angel-grace,
Sheds a Sweetness o’er her Face;
In her, indulgent Nature join’d
The faultless Form, and perfect Mind;
There all the God-like Virtures dwell,
In which the brightest Souls excel,
There Mercy, Justice, Wisdom lye,
And Piety with lifted Eye.

Aria. O Fate! To crown the glorious Scene,
Preserve the Princely Race with Care,
For, there the Parent Virtues reign,
And all our Blooming Hopes are there:
Let them thro’ rising Ages Shine,
And bless like GEORGE and CAROLINE.
Da Capo.

Recit. With Joy, united Nations own,
From Faction, War, and Tumult freed,
That none so glorious fill’d a Throne,
And none more glorious can succeed.

Chorus. We ask no more, propitious Fate!
Peculiar Blessings for our State,
That Plenty, Wealth, and Peace may smile,
And pour Abundance o’er our Isle:
But hear, O! hear the Nation’s Pray’r,
Preserve and guard the Royal Pair,
In that, kind Heav’n will give us more
Of Glory, Grandeur, Wealth, and Fame,
Than e’er adorn’d the British Name,
Or ever blest the World before.

F I N I S