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Article ODE ON HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY. Page 1 of 1
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Ode On His Majesty's Birth-Day.
ODE ON HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY .
BY HENRI JAMES PYE , ESQ . POET LAUKEAT . WHERE are the vows the Muses breath'd , That Discord ' s fital 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 fiiiry 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 , lo ! on yon devoted shore , Still through the bleeding ranks of war , His burning axles steep'd in gore , Ambition drives his iron car 1 Still his eyes , in fury roll'd ; Glare on fields by arms o ' errun
; Still his hands rapacious hold Spoils , injurious inroad won ! And spurning , with indignant frown , The sober olive ' s proft ' er'd crown , Bids the brazen trumpet ' s breath ' Swell the terrific blast of destiny and death !
Shrinks Britain at the sound ? tho' while her eye O ' er Europe ' s desolated plains she throws , Slow to avenge , and mild in victory , She mourns the dreadful sceiie of war and woes . Yet if the foe misjudging read Dismay , in pity ' s gentlest deed , And construing mercy into fear
, The blood--stain'd arm of battle rear , By insult rous'd , in just resentment warm , She frowns defiance on the threat ' ning storm 5 And far as ocean ' s billows roar , By eiery wave-encircled shore , From where o ' er icy seas the gaunt wolf roves , To coasts perfum'd by aromatic groves ,
As proudly to the ambient sk y In silken folds her mingled crosses fly , The soothing voice of peace is drown'd Awhile in war ' s tumultuous sound , And strains , from glory ' s awful clarion blown , . Float in triumphant peal around Britannia ' s throne .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Ode On His Majesty's Birth-Day.
ODE ON HIS MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY .
BY HENRI JAMES PYE , ESQ . POET LAUKEAT . WHERE are the vows the Muses breath'd , That Discord ' s fital 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 fiiiry 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 , lo ! on yon devoted shore , Still through the bleeding ranks of war , His burning axles steep'd in gore , Ambition drives his iron car 1 Still his eyes , in fury roll'd ; Glare on fields by arms o ' errun
; Still his hands rapacious hold Spoils , injurious inroad won ! And spurning , with indignant frown , The sober olive ' s proft ' er'd crown , Bids the brazen trumpet ' s breath ' Swell the terrific blast of destiny and death !
Shrinks Britain at the sound ? tho' while her eye O ' er Europe ' s desolated plains she throws , Slow to avenge , and mild in victory , She mourns the dreadful sceiie of war and woes . Yet if the foe misjudging read Dismay , in pity ' s gentlest deed , And construing mercy into fear
, The blood--stain'd arm of battle rear , By insult rous'd , in just resentment warm , She frowns defiance on the threat ' ning storm 5 And far as ocean ' s billows roar , By eiery wave-encircled shore , From where o ' er icy seas the gaunt wolf roves , To coasts perfum'd by aromatic groves ,
As proudly to the ambient sk y In silken folds her mingled crosses fly , The soothing voice of peace is drown'd Awhile in war ' s tumultuous sound , And strains , from glory ' s awful clarion blown , . Float in triumphant peal around Britannia ' s throne .