| Citation |
NHG-P.762.077
3 Dec 1762:12 (322)
THE VISION. AN ODE ON HER MAJESTY'S HAPPY DELIVERY.
Close Dover's cliffs, washed by the briny flood,
Methought this morn I stood;
On the smooth sea green as I cast my eyes,
At distance England's genius learn'd to rise
Forth, from the parting waves in coral carr,
Her tower crowned head ascending to the skies,
Smiling she pointed to our men of war.
[39 more lines, divided into verses of varying lengths,
concluding with]
Chorus.
A son, a son, to George is born,
Hail, hail, the happy, happy morn!
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