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O" D E,

MAJESTY'S BIRTH - DAY ;

FOR

HIS

BY

WRITTEN WILLIAM WHITEHEAD, ESQ; POLT

LAURLAT, AND PERFORMED AT $T. James's ok THE FOURTH OF JUNE, 1776, BY HIS MAJESTY's BAND OF MUSICIANS.

Ye western gales, whose geniał breath
Unbinds the glebe, 'till all beneath

One verdant livery wears :
You footh the fultry heats of noon,
Add softness to the fetting fun,

And dry the morning's tears.
This is your season, lovely gales,
Thro' Æther now your power prevails;
And our dilated breasts shall own
The joys which flow from you alone.
Why therefore, in yon dubious sky,
With out-spread wing, and eager eye

On distant scenes intent,
“ Sits expectation in the air."
Why do alternate hope and fear

Suspend some great event?
Can Britain fail?the thought were yain;
The powerful empress of the main

But

But strives to smooth'th' unruly food
And dreads a conquest staind with Blood.
While yet, ye winds, your breezy balm
Thro' nature spreads a general calm,
While yet a pause fell discord knows;
Catch the soft moment of repose,

Your genuine powers exert';
To pity melt th' obdurate mind,
Teach every bosom to be kind,

And humanize the heart !
Propitious gales, O wing your way!
And whilft we hail that rightful sway

Whence temper'd freedom springs,
The bliss we feel to future times
Extend, and from your native climes

Bring peace upon your wings !

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WRITTEN, OR RATHER SPOKEN, BY A GEN

TLEMAN, AT COMING INTO A COFFEE-
HOUSE, FROM THE ABOVE MUSICAL ENTER-
TAINMENT.

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SAY no more of the breezes-some wine and

tobacco, A plague on his west, 'tis an arrant

sirocco ; As I live the damn'd poet has brought 'em to

gether,
To warble of winds, and to sing of the weather.

Then he talk'd, filly fellow, of tumult and war,
And he fet expectation aloft in the air,
Like a witch on her broom looking out of the

north,
To see if the storm she had rais'd was gone forth,

Time was, that a laureat sweetly would fing Of the virtue, or valour, or wit of the king. That time is no more, and we now cannot hear, Any praise of our monarch once in a year.

But

* A pestilential south-weft wind.

“ A south-west blow on ye
And blifter you all o'er "

Caliban, Tempeft, Sea. iv,

But has he forgot it, or has he not known, What his queen to the world of her bounty hath

Shown? And how the great folk went to see it, and kiss it? What an op'ning there was, zounds how could

he miss it!

Here's his majesty's health ; if his course he can

keep, he'll Be father, as well as be king of his people : For he shall beget him a nation of princes, When this shall be flain, to subdue his provinces.

Here's health to the king; to his queen more

of her dues ; To his poet more wit to display his beit virtues ; To his council more wisdom (may heaven soon

send it) And freedom to those who have hearts to defendit.

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Oft to these walls the pilgrim grey,

With labour'd travel worn; : Has haften'd at the parting day,

And shelter'd till the morn,

The

The poor way farer, diftant bound,
Pacing the frequent-haunted ground,

His feeble limbs less toil'd wou'd find,
Refresh'd, he'd sumber thro' the night,
With pray'rs, depart at early light,

Yet-leave his soul behind.

No longer echoes round the hall ;

The strange romantic tale ;
Nor mirth provokes, nor triping ball,

The laugh o'er nut-brcwn ale.

Hope droops! whilft o'er each gothic room,
Pale melancholy spreads a gloom,

And pity mourns the ruin'd feat;
Old hospitality is filed,
And northern Famine in his stead,

Here, fixes her retreat.

Back fly reflection truth severe !

Let fancy for a while,
To + Pembroke lend a scornful sneer,

TO + WINNINGTON a smile.

Behold!

+ The bufts of Lord Pembroke and Mr. Winniugton, the minister, in the parlour; remarkable for such countenances.

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