"Oh! facred be her memory, "For ever dear her name! "Bleft be my fons, and eke all those "All princes, kings, and potentates, "Ambaffadors did fend: "All nations, provinces, and ftates, "Sought Anna for their friend. "In Anna they did all confide, "For Anna they could trust: "Truth, mercy, juftice, did furround "She held the fword and balance right, "In clemency he did delight, "Her reign not ftain'd with blood. "Her gracious goodness, piety, "In all her deeds did fhine, "And bounteous was her charity; "All attributes divine. "Confum "Confummate wisdom, meekness all, "Adorn'd the words fhe spoke; "When they from her fair lips did fall; "And sweet her lovely look. "Ten thoufand glorious deeds to crown, "She caus'd dire war to cease: "A greater Emprefs ne'er was known, "This laft and godlike act atchiev'd, "Leave we in blifs this heavenly Saint, 66 "Her virtues high and excellent, "Aftrea gone we mourn. "Commemorate, my fons, the day "Which gave great Anna birth: "Keep it for ever and for aye, "And annual be your mirth!" Illuftrious George now fills the throne, Our wife benign good King: Who can his wondrous deeds make known? Thee, favourite Nero, he has deign'd To raife to high degree! Well thou thy honours hast sustain'd, Well vouch'd thy ancestry. But But pafs Can they e'er make thee white? Don't Gaphny's blood, which thou haft shed, Thy guilty foul affright? Oh! is there not, grim mortal, tell, Places of bliss and woe? Oh! is there not a heaven, a hell; Can nought change thy obdurate mind? Wilt thou for ever rail? The prophet on thee well refin'd, How thou art loft to fenfe and fhame,. Thy conduct all just men do blame, Libera nos, Domine! Dame Juftice waits thee, well I ween, Nought can thee from her vengeance fcreen, Heavy her ire will fall on thee, She cuts off the impure. To her I leave thee, gloomy peer! Thou ne'er wilt be De-Witted. SONGS, SET TO N G S, MUSICK BY THE MOST EMINENT MASTERS. I. Set by Mr. ABEL. READING ends in melancholy; Wine breeds vices and diseases; My wealth, my books, my flask, my Molly; II. Set by Mr. PURCELL. WHIT HITHER would my passion run? Lofing her, I am undone; Yet would not gain her, to undo her. Ye tyrants of the human breaft, VOL. II. T III. Set III. Set by Mr. DE FESCH. STREE TREPHONETTA, why d' ye fly me, Oh! 'tis cruel to deny me, Since your charms I fo much prize. But I plainly fee the reason, Why in vain I you pursued; 1 CO IV. Set by Mr. SMITH. OME, weep no more, for 'tis in vain ; You figh and weep; the Gods neglect We pray, in hopes they will be kind, Then |