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AIR.

Rife, youth-thy country calls thee from thy fhade.
Behold her tears,

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Amid the horrors of War's dreadful trade. Thy country groans: forego thy fhade— 'Tis Honour calls thee to her aid.

CHORUS.

Thy country groans: forego thy fhade-
'Tis Honour calls thee to her aid.

RECITATIVE.

The youth awoke-and starting wide,
Sleep, with its vifion, left his fide.
His foul th' idea fill'd alone ;

The heroick form, the piercing tone
Of Honour on his memory play'd,

And all his heart confefs'd the heav'nly maid.

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From all a father's love,

From all a nation's care,
Behold where BRITAIN'S Jove
Sends forth his god of war:

'Gainft mountains cap'd with fnows,
'Gainst foul Rebellion's rage
The willing Hero goes

Gigantick war to wage

The gen'rous heart what flow'ry scenes can please,
Or tempt to waste his youth in useless ease!

CHORUS.

The gen'rous heart what flow'ry scenes can please,
Or tempt to wafte his youth in useless ease!

CANTATA II. The POET.

AIR.

Give me, indulgent Mufe, to rove

The mazes of thy laurel'd grove,

To choose a wreath for WILLIAM's brow
Above Sybilla's golden bough.

RECITATIVE.

I walk-I wander here and there-
How can I choose where all is fair?
This I prefer, and that refuse-
Guide me, my fill-inspiring Muse.
I faid, and pluck'd the chosen wreath :
Large drops of blood distill'd beneath;

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A figh now fhook the weeping tree,
And thus a vocal found

Brake from the recent wound,

And fet the form of beauteous Daphne free.

AIR.

Coy Daphne you behold in me;

For WILLIAM's fake I willing bleed.
No wreath but this from Phoebus' tree
Is worthy him, who Britain freed.

Lefs fair was Phoebus' chace for unfought fame,
Be his the wreath, who woo'd and won the dame.

CANTATA III. The PAINTER.

AIR.

Sweet mimick thou of Nature's face,

Thy pencil take, thy colour spread 3

On thy canvas curious trace

Every virtue, every grace,

That hovers round our WILLIAM's head.

RECITATIVE.

Let Victory before him fly,

And Fortitude with stedfast eye;

Let Prudence with her mirrour haste,

Studious of future by the past;

With Industry in vigour blooming,

And Science knowing much, yet less assuming.

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To group the piece, and fwell the train,
With Hydra heads Rebellion draw,
Spouting at ev'ry vein

The blood of thousands flain;
Thousands too few to glut her rav'nous maw :

Paint her panting, finking, dying,

Paint her fons at diftance flying.
Paint Britannia full of smiles,

Scarce recover'd from her toils:

Paint Juftice ready to avenge her pain,
Dragging the monster in her maffy chain:

Near her paint Mercy crown'd: soft-fmiling let her stand,
With arm out-ftretch'd to stop her juft, determin'd hand.
AIR.

Cease to declaim, the artist cries,

Of ev'ry virtue, ev'ry grace,

See, by degrees the features rife :

Behold them all in WILLIAM's face.

CANTATA IV. The MUSICIAN.

RECITATIVE.

O various power of magick ftrains,
To damp our joys and footh our pains!
Ev'ry movement of the will

Obedient owns the artist's skill.

Thus in gay notes, and boastful words,
The master of the tuneful chords;

Bat

But foon he found his boast was air,
His love ftill blasted with despair,
And Chloe cold, or seeming cold

To all the tuneful tales he told.

AIR.

To love when he tun'd the soft lyre,
It figh'd and it trembled in vain ;
Tho' warm'd by his amorous fire,
The fair one ne'er answer'd his ftrain.
RECITATIVE.

Hear, cries the artist, pow'r divine,
Great leader of the tuneful Nine;
Teach thy votary to swell
With love-inspiring ftrains the fhell,
Such as please my Chloe beft,

And easiest glide into her breast.

AIR.

No more I woo in warbling ftrains,
No more I fing the lover's pains
To cold and careless ears:
To warlike notes I tune the string,
The fong to WILLIAM's praife I fing-

The nymph with rapture hears.

CANTATA V. The SHEPHERD.
RECITATIVE.

Beneath an oak's indulgent fhade
A fhepherd at his ease was laid;

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