| ODE XXIX
FOR HIS MAJESTY’S BIRTHDAY, JUNE 4. 1775.
YE powers, who rule o’er states and kings,
Who shield with sublunary wings
Man’s erring race from woe,
To Britain’s sons in every clime
Your blessings waft, whate’er their crime,
On all the winds that blow!
Beyond the vast Atlantic tide
Extend your healing influence wide,
Where millions claim your care:
Inspire each just, each filial thought,
And let the nations round be taught
The British oak is there.
Though vaguely wild its branches spread,
And rear almost an alien head
Wide-waving e’er the plain,
Let still, unspoil’d by foreign earth,
And conscious of its nobler birth,
The untainted trunk remain.
Where mutual interest binds the band,
Where due subjection, mild command,
Ensure perpetual ease,
Shall jarring tumults madly rave,
And hostile banners proudly wave
O’er once united seas?
No; ’midst the blaze of wrath divine
Heaven’s loveliest attribute shall shine,
And mercy gild the ray;
Shall still avert impending fate;
And concord its best era date
From this auspicious day.
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