PLOUE SPOR Oy: [493 
iif. 
- The broken shaft that coward Malice rear’d 
Shall to thy fame eternal lustre give, 
Inscribe on Hist’ry’s page thy name rever’d, 
-And bid it there with endless blazon live. 
For there our sons’ remotest race, 
In deathless charaéters, shall trace 
How Britain’s baffled foes proclaim’d their hate, 
And deem’d her Monarch’s life the bulwark of the state. 
IV. 
Now strike a livelier chord—This happy day, 
Selected from the circling year 
To celebrate a name to Britain dear, 
From Britain’s sons demands a festive lay. 
Mild Sov’reign of our Monarch’s soul, 
Whose eyes meck radiance can controul 
The pow’rs of Care, and grace a throne 
With each calm joy to life domestic known, 
Propitious Heav’n has o’er thy head 
Blossoms of richer fragrance shed 
Than all th’ assiduous Muse can bring, 
Cull’d from the honey’d stores of Spring : 
For see, amid wild Winter’s hours 
A Bud its silken folds display, 
Sweeter than all the chalic’d flow’rs 
That crown thine own ambrosial May. 
O may thy smiles, blest infant, prove 
Omens of concord, and of love! 
Bid the loud strains of martial triumph cease, 
And tune to softer mood the warbling reed of Peace. 
ODE on His MAJESTY’S Birth-Day, Fune 4, 179%. 
By H, J. Pre, Esq. Poet-Lanreat, 
dy 
HERE are the vows the Muses breath'd, 
_ That Discord’s fatal reign might cease ? 
Where all the blooming flow’rs they wreath’d, 
To bind the placid brow of Peace ; 
Whose angel-form, with radiant beam, 
Pictur’d in Fancy’s fairy dream, 
Seem’d o’er Europa’s ravag’d land, 
Prompt to extend her influence bland. 
Calm the rude clangors of the martial lay, 
And hail with gentler note our Monarch’s natal day } 
; For 
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