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SONG.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


124

SONG.

[How Great is the Monarch! how Pow'rful his Sway!]

I

How Great is the Monarch! how Pow'rful his Sway!
When He nods, the Earth trembles, and Mankind obey.
If his Frowns urge to Discord, no Friendship holds good,
Weak Nature starts back, and recoils in the Blood;
On his Brow sits Destruction, Fate waits on his Breath,
By his Smiles his Slaves live, but his Anger is Death.

CHORUS.

All Empire belongs to Great Cæsar, and Jove;
The King rules Below, and the God reigns Above.

125

II

If enrag'd by Affronts to rough Wars he incline,
To revenge his Dishonour whole Nations combine;
In Thunder He marches, the Globe He alarms,
Thro' Mountains He breaks by the Force of his Arms;
Our Blood paints his Triumphs; and Victors we bring
All the Trophies of War, and present to our King.

Cho.

All Empire belongs, &c.

III

Attended by Pleasures He sits on his Throne,
And, when Slumbers invite, he reposes on Down.
The Guards that around Him their Watch nightly keep,
Are fatigu'd while He rests, kept awake by his Sleep:

126

Fierce Armies with Fear his Displeasure behold,
They are Slaves to his Passion, when brib'd by his Gold.

CHORUS.

All Empire belongs to Great Cæsar, and Jove;
The King rules Below, and the God reigns Above.