"Oh! facred be her memory, "For ever dear her name! "Bleft be my fons, and eke all those "All princes, kings, and potentates, "Ambaffadors did fend: "All nations, provinces, and ftates, 66 Sought Anna for their friend. "In Anna they did all confide, "Truth, mercy, juftice, did surround "Her awful judgement-feat, "In her the Graces all were found, "In Anna all compleat. "She held the fword and balance right, "And fought her people's good "In clemency fhe did delight, : "Her reign not ftain'd with blood. "Her gracious goodness, piety, "In all her deeds did shine, “And bounteous was her charity; "All attributes divine. "Confum "Confummate wisdom, meekness all, "Ten thousand glorious deeds to crown, "A greater Emprefs ne'er was known, "She fix'd the world in peace. "This laft and godlike act atchiev'd, "To Heaven she wing'd her flight: "Leave we in blifs this heavenly Saint, "Commemorate, my fons, the day "Which gave great Anna birth : Keep it for ever and for aye, "And annual be your mirth!" Illuftrious George now fills the throne, Our wife benign good King: Who can his wondrous deeds make known? Thee, favourite Nero, he has deign'd To raise to high degree! Well thou thy honours haft fuftain'd, Well vouch'd thy ancestry. But pafs These honours on thee laid, Can they e'er make thee white? Don't Gaphny's blood, which thou haft fhed, Thy guilty foul affright? Oh! is there not, grim mortal, tell, Places of blifs and woe? Oh! is there not a heaven, a hell; Can nought change thy obdurate mind? Wilt thou for ever rail? The prophet on thee well refin'd, How thou art loft to fenfe and fhame, Thy conduct all juft men do blame, Libera nos, Domine! Dame Juftice waits thee, well I ween, Her fword is brandifl'd high: Nought can thee from her vengeance screen, Heavy her ire will fall on thee, She cuts off the impure. To her I leave thee, gloomy peer! Thou ne'er wilt be De-Witted. SONGS, O N G S, SET TO MUSIC K BY THE MOST EMINENT MASTERS. I. Set by Mr. ABEL. READING ends in melancholy; Wine breeds vices and diseases; My wealth, my books, my flafk, my Molly; II. Set by Mr. PURCELL. W HITHER would my paffion run? Lofing her, I am undone ; Yet would not gain her, to undo her. Ye tyrants of the human breaft, VOL. II. T III. Set III. Set by Mr. DE FESCH. STREE TREPHONETTA, why d' ye fly me, Oh! 'tis cruel to deny me, Since your charms I fo much prize. But I plainly fee the reason, Why in vain I you pursued; Her to gain 'twas out of season, Who before the chaplain woo'd. CO IV. Set by Mr. SMITH. OME, weep no more, for 'tis in vain; You figh and weep; the Gods neglect We pray, in hopes they will be kind, Then |