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Not so our George, bless'd by the pow'rs above
With a free, brave, and gen'rous people's love,
To yield him happiness without alloy,

1761.


Kind fortune, for the monarch's joy,
Brings Charlotte in propitious hour,
To sooth the toils of state and power:
Brings Charlotte, drest in Hymen's softest smiles,
To bless the ruler of the British isles;
To share that happy sovereign's throne
Who found the nation's choice his own.
Ah, think how many years have proved
How worthy him the bride he loved;

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Ah, think how many years have flown,
While Time's true test bids envy own
Charlotte as Queen, as Mother, Friend and Wife,
The pride of public, as of private, life!