Imatges de pàgina
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Ye Mufes 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.

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II. 2.

Come happy child! delight the land

Where time fhall fix thy throne:

O come, and take from Freedom's hand

A fceptre all her own:

And when the facred lore of truth

Difplay'd, fhall form thy ripening youth,

May every joyful BRITON find

The foul of GEORGE'S godlike race,

With lovely CHARLOTTE'S fofter grace,

Attemper'd, in thy mind.

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II. 3.

For thee on AFRIC's fultry coaft

The BRITISH enfign proudly waves;

For thee by diftant tempefts toft

Our navies awe the GALLIC pride

⚫ On every fhore, whofe hoftile fide

The boundless Ocean laves.

• With nobler skill, and fiercer fire,

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Strike the rapture-breathing lyre.—

Hark! from CAMBRIA's cloud-top'd mountains

Mufic winds her ftream along,

As they flow the cryftal fountains

Liften to the jocund fong,

Lo radiant forms and glorious fhades appear, • Fair as the morn in saffron mantle dight; But ftrains divine ill fuit the human ear,

And fleeting visions mock the mortal fight.'He said, and rushing from my wondering eyes,

On volley'd lightening borne, he fought his native

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See ORELLANA pour his ftream

Through forefts vaft, where yet
Of garish day could never come
To penetrate the twilight gloom?
Doft thou thy glowing bofom lave

the beam

In fhining PLATA's fea-broad wave?

Or doft thou liften to the roar,

Where the collected waters pour

Their dreadful courfe, and foaming sweep

Down NIAGARA's horrid fteep?

And fhall thy form no more be feen

On ALBION's hills and paftures green?
Wilt thou no more PLINLIMMON fcale,
Or sport in CLUYD's fertile dale?
Wilt thou IERNE's plains forfake,

And quit KILARNEY's lovely lake?
Shall we thy footsteps trace no more
On CALEDONIA'S mountains hoar?-
Ah! nor proud DELPHI's rifing glade,
Nor PISA's confecrated fhade,

Nor PINDUS' mount, nor ACADEME,
Nor fam'd EUROTAS' trophied ftream,
Could for an hour thy fteps detain

When GRECIA bow'd to Vice's reign:
Nor could alas! the fofteft gale

That blows o'er rich CAMPANIA's vale,

Tempt

Tempt thee to breathe the LATIAN air

When Luxury exulted there.

Far from bright PHOEBUS' genial light

Thy wings indignant shaped their flight

TO SCANDANAVIA's frozen plain,

Eternal Winter's drear domain;

Where ftrong with toil each ftubborn hord

Joyful thy holy form ador'd:

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

Fell defolation 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 facred name,
Theirs the firm breast that joys to bleed
For Independence' godlike meed.
But fay, does ALBION hapless groan
Beneath a Tyrant's bloody throne?

Say,

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