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O" D E,
MAJESTY'S BIRTH - DAY ;
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
One verdant livery wears :
And dry the morning's tears.
On distant scenes intent,
Suspend some great event?
But strives to smooth'th' unruly food
Your genuine powers exert';
And humanize the heart !
Whence temper'd freedom springs,
Bring peace upon your wings !
WRITTEN, OR RATHER SPOKEN, BY A GEN
TLEMAN, AT COMING INTO A COFFEE-
SAY no more of the breezes-fome wine and
tobacco, A plague on his west, 'tis an arrant
sirocco ; As I live the damn'd poet has brought 'em to
Then he talk'd, filly fellow, of tumult and war,
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.
* A pestilential south-weft wind.
“ A south-west blow on ye
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.
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 poor way farer, diftant bound,
His feeble limbs less toil'd wou'd find,
Yet-leave his soul behind.
No longer echoes round the hall ;
The strange romantic tale ;
The laugh o'er nut-brcwn ale.
Hope droops! whilft o'er each gothic room,
And pity mourns the ruin'd feat;
Here, fixes her retreat.
Back fly reflection truth severe !
Let fancy for a while,
TO + WINNINGTON a smile.
+ The bufts of Lord Pembroke and Mr. Winniugton, the minister, in the parlour; remarkable for such countenances.