Classic Poem

Darling of Heav'n, and glory of the earth,
Illustrious Anna, whose auspicious birth
To Britain's welfare gave a happy date,
And bless'd us with a goddess to our queen,
For surely such are you, in whom is seen
All that is good, and ev'rything that's great.

Best of your sex, and best of monarchs too,
What praises to your name are due!
What songs to Anna shall we sing?
What pyramids erect, what off'rings bring?
Shall we in soft, harmonious lays
Attempt to celebrate your praise?
Or shall the muse and voice unite their charms,
To sing the glories of your reign, the conquests of your arms?

Ah! No, in vain, Alas! we strive to find
So bright a genius, so elate a mind,
Whose daring muse on steady wings may glide
Thro' realms celestial with triumphant pride,
And, with stupendous fury, boldly wrest
The teeming raptures from an angel's breast.

No wonder, then, if such a muse as mine
Should cease to aim at subjects so divine;
For Ah! her tender pinions ne'er can fly
Thro' realms so insuperably high.

Since, then, the languid muse her aid denies,
My supplicating soul shall scale the skies,
And for your welfare earnestly implore
The sacred three in one whom we adore;
While all your subjects in my prayers shall join,
That God would make you happy, as you are divine.