Selected text (#260) / Source: The Gentleman’s Magazine, vol. 24 (November 1754), p. 524
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source for this text (short title, or library & shelfmark): |
The Gentleman’s Magazine |
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vol. 24 (November 1754), p. 524 |
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newspaper/periodical |
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Ode for His Majesty’s Birthday by Colley Cibber, Esq.; Poet Laureat |
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about this transcription: |
Initial transcription by Roisin Kilcoyne, May 2020. Edited by Estelle Murphy, April 2022. |
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ODE for his Majesty’s Birth-Day by Col-
Ley Cibber, Efq; Poet Laureat.
R E C I T A T I V E.
WHen glory with refulgent wings,
The pompous world explor’d to see,
Where with immortal dignity,
She might enthrone the best of kings’.
A I R.
At length the white-cliff’d isle she found,
Where floating forts the soil surround,
And set invasive arms at nought;
Here resolv’d the goddess fix’d,
No longer in the search perplex’d,
Here enjoy’d the heav’n born thought;
In Albion every gift of nature,
Form’d for the human happy creature,
Sprang up spontaneous by his side;
Or, if her colder clime refus’d
The fruits which warmer suns produc’d,
Those her burthen’d oaks supply’d.
R E C I T A T I V E.
From Albion no ambition springs,
Proudly to prey on weaker kings,
Nor vaunts the wrong victorious;
The wreaths of conquest truly great,
That raise the fame of arms compleat,
From virtue only can be glorious.
A I R
From virtue blooms a sweeter praise
Than arms offensive know to raise,
The conquest of a nations hearts;
Such was of old the royal prize
That rank’d their king with deities,
And such the glory GEORGE exerts.
D U E T T O.
Whilst Britain boasts this healthy state,
By freedom strong, by Cæsar great,
May every natal day like this,
Renown’d, rever’d, in future story,
New lustre add to Cæsar’s glory,
In rolling rounds of happiness.
A I R.
While Cæsar thus adorns her throne,
Fair Albion to the world has shone
A star-like sea-mark blazing bright,
That foreign crowns aloof might see,
With less endanger’d dignity,
To run their course by Albion’s light.
C H O R U S.
From thee, Augustus, rise
These genial streams of cordial joys,
Thee, thus thy raptur’d Britain sings,
The greatest best-belov’d of kings.
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