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To the Right Hon. HENRY PELHAM, Esq;

He humble Petition of the worshipful company of THebamo le esitioners

and News-writers,


THAT your honour's petitioners (dealers in rhymes, , And writers of scandal, for mending the times) By losses in bus'ness, and England's well-doing, Are sunk in their credit, and verging on ruin.

That these, their misfortunes, they humbly conceive, Arise not from dulness, as some folks believe, But from rubs in their way, that your honour has laid, And want of materials to carry on trade.

That they always had form'd high conceits of their use, And meant their last breath should go out in abuse; But now (and they speak it with forrow and tears) Since your

honour has fate at the helm of affairs, No party will join 'em, no faction invite To heed what they say, or to read what they write ; Sedition, and Tumult, and Discord are fled, And Slander scarce ventures to lift up her headIn short, publick bus'ness is so carry'd on, 'That their country is fav’d, and the patriots undone.


To perplex 'em still more, and sure famine to bring (Now fatire has lost both its truth and its fing) If, in spite of their natures, they bungle at praise, Your honour regards not, and nobody pays.

YOUR Petitioners therefore molt humbly entreat (As the times will allow, and your honour thinks meet) That measures be chang'd, and some cause of complaint Be immediately furnish’d, to end their restraint ; Their credit thereby, and their trade to retrieve, That again they may rail, and the nation believe.

Or else (if your wisdom shall deem it all one) Now the parliament's rising, and bus'ness is done, That your honour would please, at this dangerous crisis, To take to your bosom a few private vices, By which your petitioners, haply, might thrive, And keep both themselves and contention alive.

In compassion, good Sir! give 'em fomething to fay, And your honour's petitioners ever shall pray.

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Senate-House at Cambridge July 1, 1749,

At the Installation of his Grace


CHANCELLOR of the University,

-canit errantem Permessi ad flumina Gallum Aonas in montes ut duxerit una fororum Utque viro Phæbi chorus afurrexerit omnis. VIRGIL

By Mr. MASON, Fellow of Pembroke-Hall.

Set to Musick by Mr. Boyce, Composer to his Majesty.


Recitative. ERE all thy active fires diffuse,

Thou genuine British Muse;
Hither defcend from yonder orient sky,
Cloth'd in thy heav'n-wove robe of harmony.

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Air I.

Come, imperial queen of song ;
Come with all that free-born grace,

Which lifts thee from the servile throng,
Who meanly mimic thy majestic pace ;

That glance of dignity divine,
Which speaks thee of celestial line;
Proclaims thee inmate of the sky,
Daughter of Jove and Liberty.

Recitative. The elevated soul, who feels

Thy aweful impulfe, walks the fragrant ways

Of honest unpolluted praise :

He with impartial justice deals
The blooming chaplets of immortal lays:
He Aies above ambition's low career ;
And nobly thron'd in Truth's meridian sphere,

Thence, with a bold and heav'n-directed aim,
Full on fair Virtue's shrine he pours

of fame.

Air .

Goddess ! thy piercing eye explores
The radiant range of Beauty's stores,
The steep ascent of pine-clad hills,
The filver flope of falling rills,
Catches each lively.colour'd grace,
The crimson of the wood-nymph's face,
The verdure of the velvet lawn,

The purple in the eastern dawn,
Or all those tints, which rang'd in vivid glow
Mark the bold sweep of the celestial bow.


IV, Recitative.

the rays

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Recitative. But chief she lifts her tuneful transports high,

When to her intellectual eye
The mental beauties rise in moral dignity :

The sacred zeal for Freedom's cause,

That fires the glowing Patriot's breast;
The honest pride, that plumes the Hero's cret,
When for his country's aid the steel he draws;

Or that, the calm yet active heat,
With which mild Genius warms the Sage's heart,

To lift fair Science to a loftier seat,

Or stretch to ampler bounds the wide domain of art, Air I. These, the best blcffoms of the virtuous mind,

She culls with tafte refin'd;

From their ambrosial bloom
With bee-like kill the draws the rich perfume,

And blends the sweets they all convey,
In the soft balm of her mellifluous lay.

Recitative. Is there a clime, where all these beauties rise

In one collected radiance to her eyes ?
Is there a plain, whose genial soil enhales

Glory's invigorating gales,
Her brightest beams where Emulation spreads,

Her kindliest dews where Science sheds,
Where every stream of Genius flows,
Where ev'ry flower of Virtue glows?
Thither the Mufe exulting fies,
There fhe loudly cries

Chorus 1.

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