Hark, hark –
The Muses and the Graces call
To celebrate this Festival:
Britain now thy cares beguile,
Bless the Day that blest our Isle:
’Tis sacred – Bid the Trumpet cease.
Let sullen Discord smile,
And War devote this day to Peace.

Crown the Altar, deck the Shrine;
Behold the bright Seraphic Throng
Prepar’d our Harmony to join;
The sacred Quire attend too long;
Crown the Altar, deck the Shrine.

Expected Spring at last is come,
Attir’d in all her Youthful Bloom.
She’s come, and pleads for her delay,
She waited for Maria’s day.
She waited for Maria’s day,
Nor would, before that Morn, be Gay.

April, who til now has mourn’d,
Claps for Joy his Sable Wing
To see within his Orb return’d
The choicest Blessings he could bring,
MARIA’s Birth-Day and the Spring.

Departing, thus you’ll hear him say,
Crown’d with the honour of this Day,
I envy not the Pride of May.
On Flora’s Charms let her enlarge;
A Saint and Beauty was my Charge.

Happy, happy past exprssing
Britain, if thou know’st thy Blessing:
Home-bred Faction ne’re Alarm Thee,
Other Mischief cannot harm Thee.

Happy Realm, beyond expressing,
Such a Royal Pair possessing;
CAESAR bears thy Toils of War,
MARIA thy Domestic Care:
Their’s the Toruble, Thine the Blessing:
Happy, happy, past expressing.

While for a Righteous Cause He Arms,
The wondrous Hero ’scapes
From death in thousand Shapes,
Still safe, still foremost in Alarms.

Let guity Monarchs shun the Field,
The active Part to Others yield;
In Person Triumph, but by Proxy Fight;
The pious Prince alone can Dangers slight.

Return, Return – The Thought of War
On this Auspicious Day forbear,
When Britain only should her Joy proclaim,
And to Disarm approaching Harm,
Repeat MARIA’s Name.

CHORUS

Kindly treat the Genial Day,
And your Homage ’twill repay,
Bequeathing Blessings on our Isle,
The tedious Minutes to beguile;
Till Conquest to MARIA’s Arms restore
Peace and her Hero, to depart no more.

Nahum Tate