A
PINDARIQUE
ON
His
Majesties
Birth-Day
.
By
Mr.
PRIOR
Sung
before
Their
Majesties
at
WHITEHALL
,
The
Fourth
of
November
1690.
A
Prophecy
by
APOLLO
.
AS
through
Britania's
Raging
Sea
,
Our
Great
Defender
Plowed
his
Glorious
Way
,
To
make
our
Wishes
,
and
his
Fame
compleat
,
To
fix
a
new
our
sinking
State
,
And
fill
the
great
Decrees
of
Fate
.
Apollo
turn'd
the
Mistick
Book
,
In
which
Recorded
lies
the
certain
Doom
Of
Time
unborn
,
and
Years
to
come
;
Auspicious
Omens
thence
he
took
,
Lawrel
adorn'd
his
Brow
,
and
Joy
his
Look
;
Aloud
he
Blest
the
happy
Day
,
Whose
lustre
twice
returned
must
see
,
Truth
Restored
,
and
Albion
Free
.
Aloud
he
bad
the
mighty
Months
proceed
,
All
Deck'd
with
fair
Success
,
and
Crowned
with
happy
Deed
.
He
Smil'd
,
and
struck
the
Lyre
and
said
,
Heaven
has
Revers'd
Britania's
Doom
:
Her
promised
Day
appears
,
her
better
Fate
is
come
.
The
gentle
Star
,
whose
joyful
Ray
,
Enliven'd
this
Auspicious
Day
,
When
Holland
blest
the
Hero's
Birth
,
Doth
with
diffusive
Goodness
shed
,
It's
larger
Gifts
,
o're
Britain's
rising
Head
,
And
thence
,
around
the
Joyful
Earth
.
Ye
Sacred
Muses
,
whose
Harmonious
lays
Are
destin'd
to
Record
his
Praise
.
Prepare
with
Solemn
Joy
,
prepare
The
chearful
Consort
of
the
War
:
Awake
the
Trumpets
,
rouze
the
Drums
,
The
King
,
the
Conqueror
,
the
Hero
comes
,
With
shining
Arms
he
decks
the
listed
Fields
,
IO
Britannia
!
They
,
IERNE
yeilds
,
IO
Britannia
!
Bless
the
Conqueror
,
Put
all
thy
Glory
on
,
exert
thy
Power
;
And
greet
thy
WILLIAM's
happy
Toil
,
Assert
the
Sea
,
defend
the
Isles
,
And
on
the
lower
World
look
safely
down
,
Thy
Self
a
World
alone
.
See
on
the
Continent
appear
,
Engaging
Troops
and
ready
War
.
On
Foreign
Plains
the
British
Armies
shine
,
WILLIAM
leads
on
,
and
Victory
pursues
,
And
on
Sein's
Banks
the
Hero
well
renews
The
Glories
of
the
Boyne
.
Deliver'd
Gallia
dreading
now
no
more
,
Tyrannick
Might
,
and
Lawless
Power
,
Obeys
her
Antient
Conqueror
.
O're
Europe
freed
Victorious
WILLIAM
Reigns
,
And
sullen
War
,
and
vanquishe'd
Pride
,
Behind
his
Chariot
Wheels
are
Tied
In
Everlasting
Chains
.
Bid
the
Drums
and
Trumpets
cease
,
And
Tune
the
softer
Instruments
of
Peace
;
All
that
through
Speaking
Pipes
convey
Sounds
of
Delight
,
and
Images
of
Joy
;
All
that
by
Artful
Charms
,
or
Vocal
Wires
,
In
happy
Numbers
gently
can
Express
,
All
the
Pleasure
,
all
the
Bliss
,
That
WILLIAM's
Cares
Deserve
,
or
MARY's
Love
Requires
.
MARIA
now
no
longer
Fear
The
doubtful
Chance
of
horrid
war
;
No
longer
Arm
thy
Hero
with
thy
Prayer
;
To
Battle
he
no
more
shall
Ride
,
No
more
for
Thee
,
and
His
Britania
Bleed
.
Saturnian
Ages
are
renewed
,
and
Golden
Times
succeed
:
The
shinning
Years
begin
their
happy
Race
,
With
Conquest
Crown'd
,
and
Blest
with
Peace
.
Fair
Plenty
opens
wide
her
bounteous
Hand
,
And
throws
her
Gifts
o're
all
the
Land
.
Virtue
does
with
Heaven
conspire
,
To
make
Britania's
Joys
entire
,
Whilst
WILLIAM
,
and
whilst
MARY
Reign
.
Astrea
has
forsook
the
Stars
,
And
joyned
her
Throne
to
Theirs
,
Nor
shall
return
from
Earth
again
,
Whilst
WILLIAM
,
and
whilst
MARY
Reign
.