He comes pursuant to divine decree,

To chain the strong, and set the captive free.

Chorus of YOUTHS.

Rise to transports past expressing,
Sweeter from remember'd woes;
Cyrus comes, our wrongs redressing,
Comes to give the world repose.

Chorus of VIRGINS.

Cyrus comes, the world redressing,
Love and pleasure in his train;
Comes to heighten every blessing,
Comes to soften every pain.

Semi-Chorus.

Hail to him with mercy reigning,
Skill'd in every peaceful art;
Who from bonds our limbs unchaining,
Only binds the willing heart.

Last Chorus.

But chief to Thee, our God, defender, friend,
Let praise be given to all eternity;

O Thou, without beginning, without end,
Let us, and all, begin and end in Thee.

THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS.

THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS.1

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF HER LATE ROYAL HIGHNESS

THE PRINCESS DOWAGER OF WALES.

SPOKEN AND SUNG IN THE GREAT ROOM IN SOHO SQUARE, THURSDAY, FEB. 20, 1772.

ADVERTISEMENT.

THE following may more properly be termed a compilation than a poem. It was prepared for the composer in little more than two days; and may therefore rather be considered as an industrious effort of gratitude than of genius.

In justice to the composer, it may likewise be right to inform the public that the music was adapted in a period of time equally short.

SPEAKERS.

MR. LEE AND MRS. BELLAMY.

SINGERS.

MR. CHAMPNES, MR. DINE, AND MISS JAMESON.

The music prepared and adapted by Signor Vento.

1 This poem was first printed by Mr. Chalmers from a copy given by Goldsmith to his friend, Joseph Cradock, Esq. of Gumley, author of Zobeide, &c., and lent to Mr. Chalmers by Mr. Nicholls. v. Br. Poets, vol. xvi. p. 509.

THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS.

OVERTURE A SOLEMN DIRGE. AIR

TRIO.

ARISE, ye sons of worth, arise,

And waken every note of woe!

When truth and virtue reach the skies, 'Tis ours to weep the want below.

CHORUS.

When truth and virtue, &c.

MAN SPEAKER.

The praise attending pomp and power,
The incense given to kings,

Are but the trappings of an hour,

Mere transitory things.

The base bestow them; but the good agree

To spurn the venal gifts as flattery.

But when to pomp and power are join'd

An equal dignity of mind;

When titles are the smallest claim;

When wealth, and rank, and noble blood,

But aid the power of doing good,

Then all their trophies last

to fame.

and flattery turns

Blest spirit thou, whose fame, just born to bloom,
Shall spread and flourish from the tomb,
How hast thou left mankind for heaven!
Even now reproach and faction mourn,
And, wondering how their rage was born,
Request to be forgiven!

Alas! they never had thy hate:
Unmov'd in conscious rectitude,

Thy towering mind self-centred stood,
Nor wanted man's opinion to be great.
In vain, to charm thy ravish'd sight,
A thousand gifts would fortune send;
In vain, to drive thee from the right,
A thousand sorrows urged thy end:

Like some well-fashion'd arch thy patience stood,
And purchased strength from its increasing load;
Pain met thee like a friend to set thee free;
Affliction still is virtue's opportunity!

SONG. BY A MAN-AFFETUOSO.

Virtue, on herself relying,
Every passion hush'd to rest,
Loses every pain of dying
In the hopes of being blest.
Every added pang she suffers
Some increasing good bestows,
And every shock that malice offers
Only rocks her to repose.