A / SERENATA.

à 5.

Valour. Fate. Glory. Fame. Victory.

Chorus. SING Great ANNA’s Matchless Name,
’Tis a Theme
Worthy of the Great APOLLO,
And the Sacred Nine, that follow
From the pure Castalian Stream.
Sing, &c.

Valour. ’Tis only such a Choir can reach Her Praises,
Whose Dawn, whose Rise, whose Progress
Shone bright successively; but whose Meridian
Clares with unequal’d Lustre,
Superlatively Good She blesses Britain,
And by transcendant Virtues
Engages even Fortune
To favour all Her Loyal Britton’s Projects,
So Great, so well Concerted, so uncommon,
That even Foes have Lavish’d Praises on ’em.

ARIA
Pale Envy, in Tortures for ever despair,
Thou can’st not Impair
Those flourishing Lawrels Her Temples do wear;
Thy Poisonous Breath for a while may o’re cast them
But never can blast them,
Obtain’d by such Virtue, preserv’d by such Care, Pale, &c.

Fate. From my Abode beyond th’Eternal Hinges
Of Heavens subtil Foldings,
Invited by these general Acclamations,
I’m come this Day to do Great ANNA Homage.
I am the Fate of BRITAIN,
That move the sacred Springs of Her Advancement,
Preparing various Hazzards,
As matter only, to promote her Glory,
And make her Queen and Sons most bright in Story.

Aria.
That’s only unshaken,
That Fate once has fix’d;
The wisest Projectors may all be mistaken,
Entangle themselves in the Webbs they have Spun,
And the Work of an Age, in a Day be Undone.
That’s &c.

Fame. That I am Fame, this Golden Trup and Pinions
Beset with Eyes discover.
From Isi’s Silver flood thro’ every Ocean,
Where ever Waters flow in curling Eddys,
I’ve wafted ANNA’s Name to farthest Climates,
The Snowy Alps, the APenine, and Tarus,
Have heard my Sounding Trumpet.
I’ve wing’d th’ Ariel Regions
And blaz’d Her Glories to the Neighbouring Planets.
The Listning Orbs admire Her wond’rous Praises;
My Trump, my Eyes, my Ears, and Tongues are weary,
Yet more and more the mighty Task Increases.

Aria
Her Martial Praise a while give O’re,
To share in Britain’s Joys
And then thy Loudest blasts Restore,
And all thy Deity Employ.
Her other God-like Virtues Claim
No less the Breath of Living Fame,
Expect thy Task shall be increas’d,
While Britain’s with Her presence bless’d,
Her, &c.

Glo. Th’ Assirian Queen Her wreaths of Laurel blasted.
Palmyra’s wondr’ous Empress
[Page cropped. Line unreadable]
Our own Admir’d ELIZA
Was Wise, and Great, but more kind Fortunes Darling
Than the Delight of Mankind.
But ANNA and the Peculiar Care of Heaven
Now gives the World a More Illustrious Story,
Than all that went before Her,
And fills the brightest Orb with spotless Glory.

Aria
See Her Britons! how they’r Charm’d,
All alarmed,
Wjen Her Glory’s in their View:
Rivers and Oc’eans, and Mountainous Barri’rs
Stop not these Warri’rs,
Detin’d for Empire, and form’d to subdue.
All they pursue,
Only worthy of that Sov’reign.
They have Over’m,
Ever Brave, and ever True.
See her, &c.

Cho. Equal Virtues Poise her Soul,
Reason there presideth,
And each Passion guideth,
Thro’ the faultless whole,
Equal Virtues poise Her Soul.
Mercy only draws her.
One way more than th’ other,
As it does the Gods,
Equal Virtues Poise her Soul.

Glo. Behold another scene of ANNA’s Glory!
She now in Triumph Rides with Bloodless Lawrels,
When Hostile Kings flush’d with successive Vic’ries,
That long in vain oppos’d Her,
At length submitted to her just Decision,
To make her Glor’ious Triumphs Universal,
And wretched Nations Happy,
Her self at last, to end the tedious Contest,
She Overcame: the most Illustrious Conquest.

Aria.
Her Care’s Incessant,
To make as Blest;
Who’ver Complaineth
His Suit Obtaineth,
Her Favours granted e’er Her Throne’s Address.
Her Cares &c.

[Page cropped: Fate?] Once when th’unsatiate God of War enraged
By loss, resolv’d upon destructive Battle,
Pallas the Off-spring of Jove’s Head advance,
To check the rageing Monster;
Her Power and Skill superior,
The Fury of God must yield, tho’ with reluctance,
Thus Furious Power by Wisdom must be guided,
And Lawrels Strife by a Goddess be decided.

Aria.
Glo. Thro’ the Skies white Thunder rolleth,
Wild Confusion fills the Air:
But the blackness must blow over,
Days bright beams again discover
All Serene and Heavenly Fair.
Thro’ the, &c.

Fame. Fame, reassume thy Golden Trump; A Subject
Of more extent, than all her Martial Glory,
Presents it self, when all her Royal Virtues
Thy highest Flight and loudest Eccho’s challenge.
Her God-like Condescension
To Peace amidst the Harvest of Her Lawrels,
Displays Her wondrous Meekness.
Her lively Wisdom’s painted,
Io that prime Choice of those her Crown employeth.
The Scale of Nations She so Even Holdeth,
That one may think Astre’a return’d from Heaven.
Nay. o’re her Self, as o’re the World she Reigneth,
Her Life enforcing all that she Ordaineth.

Aria.
True Virtue can’t perish;
Tho’ Temples are raized,
And Statues defaced;
Tho’ Envy enrages,
And Falshood engages,
She always shall flourish.
True, &c.

Valour. In their Eternal Roles the Fares Ordain’d me
A constant Sharer of Great ANNA’s Glorys.
Oh! may the Sun ne’re see me
Apart from Her, and Her unequal’d Britons:
I’ll follow them where Cold Arcturus freezes
The breaking Waves to Crystal,
And cross the burning Line to Southern Climate:
O where Eurprates, and the Sounding Tigris
Enrich the adjacent Borders.
TO New and Glorious Deeds I’ll still inure them
Thro’ all the world, and ev’ry where secure them.

Aria.
Brav’ry in a Righteous Cause
Justly ravishes Applause
But true Fortitude exciteth
From dire Warfare to abstain,
When our Ends by Peace we gain,
And the Worsted Foe submitteth.
Brav’ry, &c.

Victory. Turn Ancient Annals over;
And view the Actions of the greatest Hero’s:
They’ll only be a Foyle to ANNA’s Fortune.
Nay, into Rhea’s pregnant Womb as Janus,
Cou’d you your Eye casr forward.
And see the Images of what is future;
You’d view no Story thro’ them all so Shining:
Now since her ample Honours
Admit of no Addition,
’Twas fit th’Auspici’us God shou’d shut his Temple
No longer prsecute the fatal Quarrels
[B]ut cour the Olive and reject the Laurel

Aria.
Golden Month, begin your Round;
Peace and oy, and Love restoring;
Ev’ry cheerful Swain adoring,
Be by Flora and Ceres Crown’d.
Smiling Hours, distribute Pleasure.
Balmy Winds disperse your Treasure
Over Britains fruitful Ground.

Cho. No Worthy ever so deserved
Loud Fam’s Eternal Blast;
Therefore bot on Columns,
In Hearts and in Volumns
Her NAME shall Ever Last.
No Worthy, &c.

Aria.
Trials display
Virtue completed:
Anna’s like Gold, that the Furnace refineth,
Th’ oft’ner ’tis Tried still the brighter it shineth:
But from the Nmae
Comes forth the same,
Not in value abated.
No, no,
Oppression but maketh it grow:
Trials, &c.

Cho. No worthy, &c.

FINIS.