 | An ode for the New-Year |  |
Aspice, venturo lætentur ut omnia sæc'lo!
O! mihi tam longæ maneat pars ultima vitæ
Spiritus, & quantum sat erit tua dicere facta?
Virg.
O! mihi tam longæ maneat pars ultima vitæ
Spiritus, & quantum sat erit tua dicere facta?
Virg.
1
AN ODE FOR THE NEW-YEAR.
RECITATIVO.
Lift up thy hoary Head, and rise,Thou mighty Genius of this Isle:
Around thee cast thy wond'ring Eyes,
See all thy Albion smile.
Mirth's Goddess her blest Pow'r maintains
In Cities, Courts, and rural Plains,
Brunswick, the glorious Brunswick reigns.
2
AIR.
Tho' thy kind Eyes were once o'erflowing,Our too impending Dangers knowing:
Tho' Days, tho' Nights were spent in Groaning,
Poor Britannia's fate bemoaning:
Now forbear, forbear to languish,
Chearful rise from needless Anguish:
For Pleasures now are ever growing,
Tho' thy kind Eyes were once o'er-flowing.
RECITATIVO.
Let the young, dawning Year a GEORGE resound,A GEORGE's Fame can fill it's spacious Round.
Here ev'ry Virtue pleas'd thou may'st behold,
Which rais'd a Heroe to a God of Old.
To form this ONE the mix'd Idea's draw
From Edward, Henry, and thy lov'd Nassau.
AIR.
Such to Britannia is her King,As the softly murmuring Spring
To thirsty Travellers, who sweat
On Libyan Sands, and die with Heat.
They view it with a glad Surprise,
And drink the Water with their Eyes.
Then with gay Hearts, refresh'd, they sing:
Such to Britannia is her King.
3
RECITATIVO.
By Thee contending Nations are ally'd,By Thee Hesperia sinks her tow'ring Pride.
Moscovia's Prince begins his Bounds to know,
And roaring Volga silently to flow.
Thee Gallia's Regent with fix'd Eyes admires,
For thee Germania feels a Lover's Fires.
From Belgian Moles thy Praise is heard around,
Thy Albion's Cliffs return the pleasing Sound.
Janus again his Iron Doors must close,
A new Augustus seeks the World's Repose.
AIR.
With Raptures ev'ry Breast is fir'd,Loud Pœans ev'ry Tongue employ;
Thus while great Jove sometimes retir'd,
The Court of Gods his Absence mourn'd,
But when the Thunderer return'd,
The whole Olympus shook with Joy.
CHORUS.
GENIUS! now securely rest,We shall ever now be blest.
Thou thy Guardianship may'st spare,
Britannia is a Brunswick's Care.
FINIS.
| An ode for the New-Year | |