| Citation |
MS-B.774.005
20 Jan 1774:41 (3/155)
From the Essex Journal, &c.
Hail welcome dawn, Aurora doth appear,
And with a blush, brings forth the new-born year;
Kind Phoebus hastens from his sea-green bed,
And doth his blessings on the infant shed.
. . . [4 lines]
I bow'd, she smil'd, and of the new-year sung,
In gentle notes, and tun'd my artless tongue.
May heaven defend us from those ills we fear,
And with ten thousand blessings crown the year.
No sound of war, disturb the rural swain,
Nor human blood, the field with purple stain:
Nor war-like drums, nor trumpets wake the springs,
Nor fatal battles, the ripe autumn bring.
. . . [12 more lines]
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