So dusky night and chaos smil'd

On beauteous form their lovely child.

O fair variety!

IV.

What blifs thou doft fupply!
The foul brings forth the fair
To deck the changing year.
When our old pleasures die,
Some new one still is nigh;
Oh! fair variety!

V.

Our paffions, like the seasons, turn;
And now we laugh, and now we mourn.
Britannia late opprefs'd with dread,
Hung her declining drooping head:
A better vifage now she wears,
And now at once the quits her fears :
Strife and war no more fhe knows,
Rebel fons nor foreign foes.

VI.

Safe beneath her mighty mafter,

In fecurity she sits;

Plants her loofe foundations faster,

And her forrows paft forgets.

VII.

Happy ifle! the care of heaven,
To the guardian hero given,
Unrepining ftill obey him,
Still with love and duty pay him.

VIII. Though

VIII.

Though he parted from thy fhore,
While contefting kings attend him;
Could he, Britain, give thee more
Than the pledge he left behind him?

ODE TO PEACE, FOR THE YEAR 1718.

TH

I.

HOU faireft, fweetest daughter of the skies, Indulgent, gentle, life-reftoring Peace! With what aufpicious beauties doft thou rife, And Britain's new-revolving Janus bless !

II.

Hoary winter smiles before thee,
Dances merrily along :

Hours and feasons all adore thee,

And for thee are ever young:

Ever, goddess, thus appear,
Ever lead the joyful year.

III.

In thee the night, in thee the day is bleft;

In thee the dearest of the purple east :
'Tis thine immortal pleasures to impart,

Mirth to inspire, and raise the drooping heart :
To thee the pipe and tuneful string belong,

hou theme eternal for the poet's fong.

IV. Awake

IV.

Awake the golden lyre,
Ye Heliconian choir;
Swell every note ftill higher,
And melody inspire

At heaven and earth's defire.

V.

Hark, how the founds agree,

With due complacency!
Sweet Peace, 'tis all by thee,
For thou art harmony.

VI.

Who, by nature's faireft creatures,
Can defcribe her heavenly features?
What comparison can fit her?
Sweet are roles, fhe is fweeter;
Light is good, but Peace is better.
Would you fee her fuch as Jove
Form'd for univerfal love,

Blefs'd by men and gods above?
Would you every feature trace,
Every fweetly fmiling grace ?
Seek our Carolina's face.

VII.

Peace and the are Britain's treasures,
Fruitful in eternal pleasures :

Still their bounty fhall increase us,
Still their fmiling offspring blefs us.
Happy day, when each was given
By Cæfar and indulging Heaven.

CHORUS.

Hail, ye celeftial pair!

Still let Britannia be your care,

And Peace and Carolina crown the year.

ODE FOR THE KING'S BIRTH-DAY, 1718.

I.

H touch the ftring, celeftial Muse, and say,
Why are peculiar times and seasons bleft?

Is it in Fate, that one distinguish'd day

Should with more hallow'd purple paint the East?
II.

Look onl ife and nature's race!
How the careless minutes pafs,
How they wear a common face:
One is what another was !
Till the happy hero's worth
Bid the festival stand forth;
Till the golden light he crown,
Till he mark it for his own.

III.

How had this glorious morning been forgot,
Unthought-of as the things that never were ;

Had not our greatest Cæfar been its lot,
And call'd it from amongst the vulgar year!

IV. Now

IV.

Now, Nature, be gay

In the pride of thy May,
To court let thy graces repair:
Let Flora bestow

The crown from her brow,

For our brighter Britannia to wear.
V.

Through every language of thy peopled earth,
Far as the fea's or Cæfar's influence goes,
Let thankful nations celebrate his birth,
And bless the author of the world's repofe.
VI.

Let Volga tumbling in cascades,

And Po that glides through poplar shades,
And Tagus bright in fands of gold,

And Arethufa, rivers old,

Their great deliverer fing.

Not, Danube, thou whose winding flood
So long has blush'd with Turkish blood,
To Cæfar fhall refufe a ftrain,
Since now thy streams without a stain

Run crystal as their spring.

CHORUS.

To mighty George, that heals thy wounds,
That names thy kings and marks thy bounds,
The joyful voice, O Europe, raife :

In the great Mediator's praise
Let all thy various tongues combine,
And Britain's festival be thine.