Royal youth! what bard divine,
Equal to a praise like thine,

Shall in fome exalted meafure
Sing thee, Britain's deareft treasure?
Who her joy in thee shall tell,

Who the sprightly note shall swell,
His voice attempering to the tuneful shell?
Thee Audenard's recorded field,

Bold in thy brave paternal band, beheld,
And faw with hopeless heart thy fainting rival yield:
Troubled he, with fore dismay,

To thy ftronger fate gave way,
Safe beneath thy noble fcorn,
Wingy-footed was he borne,

Swift as the fleeting fhades upon the golden corn.

IV.

What valour, what diftinguish'd worth,
From thee fhall lead the coming ages forth?
Crested helms and shining shields,
Warriors fam'd in foreign fields;
Hoary heads with olive bound,
Kings and lawgivers renown'd;
Crowding ftill they rife anew,
Beyond the reach of deep prophetic view.
Young Auguftus! never cease!

Pledge of our present and our future peace, Still pour the bleffings forth, and give thy great increase. All the stock that fate ordains

To fupply fucceeding reigns,

Whether glory fhall inspire
Gentler arts or martial fire,
Still the fair defcent fhall be

Dear to Albion all, like thee,

Patrons of righteous rules, and foes to tyranny.

V.

Ye golden lights who shine on high,
Ye potent planets who afcend the sky,
On the opening year dispense
All your kindeft influence;
Heavenly powers be all prepar'd
For our Carolina's guard;

Short and easy be the pains,

Which for a nation's weal the heroine fuftains.
Britannia's angel be thou near;

The growing race is thy peculiar care,
Oh spread thy facred wing above the royal fair.
George by thee was wafted o'er

To the long expected shore:

None prefuming to withstand

Thy celestial armed hand,

While, his facred head to fhade,

The blended cross on high thy filver shield display'd. VI.

But, oh! what other form divine

Propitious near the hero feems to shine!

Peace of mind, and joy ferene,
In her facred eyes are seen,
Honour binds her mitred brow,
Faith and truth befide her go,

With zeal and pure devotion bending low.

A thousand storms around her threat,

A thousand billows roar beneath her feet,

While, fix'd upon a rock, fhe keeps her stable feat.

Still in fign of fure defence,

Truft and mutual confidence,
On the monarch, ftanding by,

Still fhe bends her gracious eye,

Nor fears her foes approach, while heaven and he are

nigh.

VII.

Hence then with every anxious care!
Be gone, pale Envy, and thou cold Despair!
Seek ye out a moody cell,

Where deceit and treafon dwell;

There repining, raging, ftill

The idle air with curfes fill;

There blast the pathless wild, and the bleak northern hill;

There your exile vainly moan;

There where, with murmurs horrid as your own, Beneath the sweeping winds, the bending forefts groan; But thou, Hope, with smiling chear, Do thou bring the ready year;

See the hours! a chofen band!

See with jocund looks they stand,

All in their trim array, and waiting for command.

VIII.

The welcome train begins to move,

Hope leads increase and chaste connubial love :

Flora fweet her bounty fpreads,
Smelling gardens, painted meads;
Ceres crowns the yellow plain;
Pan rewards the fhepherd's pain;
All is plenty, all is wealth,

And on the balmy air fits rofy-colour'd health.
I hear the mirth, I hear the land rejoice,
Like many waters fwells the pealing noise,

While to their monarch, thus, they raise the public voice.
Father of thy country, hail!

Always every where prevail;

Pious, valiant, juft, and wife,
Better funs for thee arife,

Purer breezes fan the fkies,

Earth in fruits and flowers is drest,

Joy abounds in every breast,

For thee thy people all, for thee the year is bleft.

S ON G

FOR

THE KING'S BIRTH-DAY, MAY 28, 1716.

II.

Majefty and great renown

Wait thy beamy brow to crown.
Parent of our hero, thou,
George on Britain didst bestow.
Thee the trumpet, thee the drum,
With the plumy helm, become:
Thee the spear and shining shield,
With every trophy of the warlike field.

III.

Call thy better bleffings forth,
For the honour of his birth:
Still the voice of loud commotion,
Bid complaining murmurs cease,
Lay the billows of the ocean;
And compofe the land in peace.
Call thy better, &c.

IV.

Queen of odours, fragrant May,
For this boon, this happy day,
Janus with the double face

Shall to thee refign his place,

Thou shalt rule with better grace:

Time from thee fhall wait his doom,

}

And thou shalt lead the year for every age to come.

V.

Fairest month, in Cæfar pride thee,
Nothing like him canft thou bring,
Though the graces fmile befide thee:
Though thy bounty gives the Spring.