ier A ple Ee s, jib 
While he who rules with virtuous sway, 
Whom freemen glory to obey, 
Sees ev’ry breast the bulwark of a throne, 
His people’s surest guard, its sacred rights their own, 
‘Then let the Muse, with duteous hand, 
Strike the bold lyre’s responsive strings, 
_ While ev’ry tongue through Albion's land 
Joins in the hymn of praise she sings ; 
And Labour, from the furrow’d plain, 
And Commerce, from the billowy main, 
With voice symphonious bid arise 
That purest incense to the skies, 
Above the proudest wreath of fame, 
Which ever grac’d the viétor’s name, — 
A nation’s votive breath by truth consign’d 
- To bless a patriot King—the friend of human kind. 
NATIONAL ADDRESS, 
> Written by Sir Jamxs Brann Bureess, 
And spoken by Mr. Raymonn, previous to: the Performance of the 
Tragedy of ‘% Edward, the Black Prince,” at Drury Lane Theatre, 
on Thursday, October 27, 1803. 
cS ee charm, instruét, and dignify the age, 
Was long th’ acknowledg’d province of the stage, 
When the free Muse, by fashion undebas’d, 
Through Nature’s range her great examples trac’d, 
Rescu’d Desert from all-subduing Time, 
Stamp’d Worth with glory, with dishonour Crime ; 
And, unseduc’d from Virtue’s sacred laws, . 
Disdain’d by ribaldry to seek applause. ' 
Such were the themes which once true Genius fir’d, 
Which Britain’s sons with patriot zeal inspir’d ; ~ 
When, as their fathers’ yalour was rehears’d, 
O’er every soul congenial ardour burst ; F 
And, while they crown’d the band with just applause, 
They grew enthusiasts in their country’s cause. 
Such are the themes which now attention claim, 
. The field of Poiétiers, and young Epwarn’s fame! 
When England’s harass’d, but determin’d host, 
Uncheck’d by toils, unaw’d by Gallia’s boast, . 
The shock of countless multitudes withstood, 
When, as each sword was dy?d in hostile blood, 
England's 
