3

We thank thee, O God, for the blessings we've prov'd,

In the long-lengthen'd reign of a Monarch so lov'd;

With loud gratulation we join in one band,
For the Jubilee trumpet resounds through the

land.

4

Whilst our Monarch the sceptre of Britain has sway'd,

Religion and Truth happy progress have made; We confess this support of thy merciful hand, Now the Jubilee trumpet resounds through the land.

5

Distant Africa's sons shall unite heart and voice, For her chains are no more-let her freemen

rejoice

They shall echo the chorus that freedom de

mands,

For the Jubilee trumpet resounds through both

lands.

6

Whilst our offerings of mercy we cheerfully

bring,

'Tis our heart's supplication, O God, save the

King!

On thy church and thy people, a blessing

command,

For the Jubilee trumpet resounds through the land.

Fear God, honour the King.-1 PET. ii. 17.

II.

AN ODE

ON HIS MAJESTY'S ILLNESS,

1789.

BY ANNE FRANCIS.

1

LONG fix'd in this rural retreat,
To pleasures domestic confin'd,
No troubles, I thought, of the great
Could ruffle the calm of my mind:
Each morning contented I rose,
And blest the return of the light;
At even prepar'd for repose,
And quietly slept thro' the night.

2

The moments thus glided away,
Reliev'd by the Muse, with a song;
So cheerfully pass'd the long day,
That I never once thought it too long;

For friendship, with love in her train,
Enraptur'd the moments that flew ;
And the forest and furze-skirted plain
Were objects still dear to the view.

3

But, ah! what sad tidings I hear!
With anguish I list to the tale!
My eye is surcharg'd with a tear,

And I sigh to the sorrowing gale!
The heart that is human must mourn,
• The tear of compassion will flow :
Will the bright-sun of healing return-
To gild this horizon of woe?

4

O, Lord of soft mercy, attend!
The ragings of frenzy controul,
Bid the beams of refreshment descend,
And relume the dark sphere of his soul!
In pity-oh! hear us complain!

In mercy-attend to our prayer!

Assist him his woes to sustain,

And shield his sad mind from despair!

5

O, listen awhile to the lay,—

The motive that prompts me to sing Is the homage affection would pay

To the man whom I love as my King!

How sweet are the tones of the lyre-
When duty engages the song!
When gratitude breathes on the wire,
And wafts the soft measures along!

6

The forest and furze-skirted plain
No longer afford me delight;
The landscape is varied in vain,
The objects grow dim on the sight:
I feel for the woes of the great,

My heart is with anguish opprest;
No language, alas! can relate

The sorrow that saddens my breast.

7

May the bright-sun of healing return!
The source of sweet-comfort descend!
Our hearts shall with gratitude burn,
Till life, and till gratitude end:
Then, aloft in the mansions of air
Enraptur'd we'll strike the bold strings-
Loud Anthems of glory prepare—
To the Lord-the protector of Kings.

III.

AN ODE

ON HIS MAJESTY'S RECOVERY,

1789.

BY THE SAME.

TUNE: The Hymn of Eve.

1

SOUND, Lute, the sweet concords of praise! Enraptur'd I strike the bold string,

Loud Anthems of gratitude raise,

For God has restor❜d us our King!

Pale Faction in solitude mourns!

Leave the tears of her Minions to flow;

The bright sun of healing returns,
And gilds the horizon of woe.

2

See, the Monarch from languor arise!
He bends at the footstool of grace;
Fair gratitude beams from his eyes,
And devotion illumines his face!

See the circle of virtue attend,

With looks of complacence and love; Their raptures like incense ascend

And Angels record them above.