Now here, now there, the roving Fancy flies, Till some lov’d object strikes her wand’ring , Whose silken fetters all the senses bind, And soft captivity involves the .
...The crown upon your brows may flourish long, A And that your arm may in your God be strong! O may your sceptre num'rous nations sway,B And all with love and readiness obey! But how shall we the British king reward! Rule thou in peace, and our lord! Midst the remembrance of thy favours past, The meanest peasants most admire the last...
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