Imatges de pÓgina
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Ye Muses twine each fragant flower

• To crown the day, to 'crown the hour,
• Which gave to George a blooming heir;

( Ye Guardians of this favor'd isle

« On this your future monarch smile, Ye Nymphs your wreaths prepare.

II. 2.

Come happy child! delight the land

• Where time shall fix thy throne:

• O come, and take from Freedom's hand

A sceptre all her own:

« And when the sacred lore of truth

Display'd, shall form thy ripening youth,
May every joyful Briton find

« The soul of George's godlike race,

• With lovely CHARLOTTE's softer grace,

• Attemper'd, in thy mind.

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II. 3.

Il. 3

For thee on Afric's sultry coast - The British enlign proudly waves; * For thee by distant tempests tost s Our navies awe the GALLIC pride

. On every shore, whose hostile fide

• The boundless Ocean laves.« With nobler skill

, and fiercer fire, · Strike the rapture-breathing lyre.* Hark!—from CAMBRIA's cloud-top'd mountains

Music winds her stream along,

As they flow the crystal fountains · Listen to the jocund song, "Lo radiant forms and glorious shades appear, , • Fair as the morn in saffron mantle dight; < But strains divine ill suit the human ear, * And fleeting visions mock the mortal sight.' He said, and rushing from my wondering eyes, On volley'd lightening borne, he fought his native

skies.

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Their dreadful course, and foaming sweep
Down Niagara's horrid steep?

And shall thy form no more be feen

On Albion's hills and pastures green?

Wilt thou no more PlinLImmon scale,

Or sport in Cluyd's fertile dale?

Wilt thou lerne's plains forsake,
And quit KılARNEY's lovely lake?
Shall we thy footsteps trace no more

On CALEDONIA's mountains hoar ?.

Ah! nor proud Delphi's rising glade,

Nor Pisa's consecrated shade,

Nor Pindus' mount, nor ACADEME,

Nor fam'd EUROTAS' trophied stream,

Could for an hour thy steps detain
When Grecia bow'd to Vice's reign:

Nor could alas! the softest gale

That blows o'er rich CAMPANIA' vale,

Tempt Tempt thee to breathe the Latian air

When Luxury exulted there.
Far from bright PhæBus' genial light
Thy wings indignant shaped their flight

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To SCANDANAVIA's frozen plain,

Eternal Winter's drear domain ;

Where strong with toil each stubborn hord
Joyful thy holy form ador’d:

Though, where their tribes the earth o'er-ran,

Fell desolation led the van,

Though Horror midst their armies stood,

And drench'd their fatal paths with blood;
Yet theirs the unextinguish'd flame
That glows at Freedom's sacred name,
Theirs the firm breast that joys to bleed
For Independence' godlike meed.

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But say, does Albion hapless groan

Beneath a Tyrani's bloody throne ?

Say,

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