Classic Poem

AN ODE

ON HER MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY , 1736-7.

Ye Spirits bright! that ether rove,
That breathe the vernal soul of love,
Bid Health descend in balmy dews,
And life in ev'ry gale diffuse,
That give the flow'rs to shine, the birds to sing;
Oh! glad this natal day the prime of spring!
The virgin snow-drop first appears,
Her golden head the crocus rears;
The flow'ry tribe profuse and gay,
Spread to the soft inviting ray.
So arts shall bloom by Carolina's smile,
So shall her fame waft fragrance o'er the isle.

The warblers various, sweet and clear,
From bloomy sprays salute the year.
O Muse! awake; ascend and sing,
Hail the fair rival of the spring!
To woodland honours woodland hymns belong;
To her, the pride of arts! the Muse's song.
Kind, as of late her clement sway,
The season sheds a tepid ray.
The storms of Boreas rave no more,
The storms of faction cease to roar:
At vernal suns as wintry tempests cease,
She, lovely Pow'r! smiles faction into peace.