Hail to the lov'd, returning, glorious Day! Let Phoebus gild it with a brighter Ray: Long may we joy to see it smiling rise, And long great BRUNSWIC want his kindred Skies.
Breath the Hautboy, touch the Lyre, Melting Harmony inspire; Let no clouded Brow be found In the glittering, pompous Round. Music! gently fan Love's Fire, Welcome Mirth and young Desire, Breath the Hautboy, touch the Lyre, Melting Harmony inspire!
To Him, what Numbers shall we bring, In equal Numbers, whom no Muse can sing? To Him, what deathless Trophy raise, Who, all transending, nobly scorns all Praise? In pleasing wonder lost we see, How lovely Virtue shines in MAJESTY!
Still let Nations, freed, resound Him, Guardian Angels still surround Him, Crown Him with the sweetest Pleasure, Without End, and without Measure, Let no treacherous Foe confound Him, Still let Nations, freed, resound Him, Guardian Angels still surround Him!