THE
GLORIOUS YEAR.
By J.P.
To the Tune of Now, now comes on the Glorious Year.
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NOW, now is come the Glorious Year,
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When State-Betrayers only fear,
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And Britain's Sons in Smiles appear,
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While boundless Blessings wait her:
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For Royal GEORGE is on the Throne,
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Before the Nation's quite undone,
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Then, Lads, where-e're you see a Frown,
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Besure you see a Traytor.
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Not that a smiling Aspect can
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For certain prove an honest Man,
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Since those have Looks at most Command,
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Who act the vilest Part still.
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Did not L. Ox-----d smooth his Face,
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And laugh, as if in no Disgrace;
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Yet believe me Friend 'tis all Grimace,
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To keep the Foe in Heart still.
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Nay, with design to play this Game,
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The baffled Wretch to Greenwich came,
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(As if out of place, so free from Blame;)
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But let no Britain wonder:
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For Fate its Orders thus has laid,
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Whom it destroys, it first makes mad,
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Or a vile Blasphemer never had,
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Thus fac'd the rowling Thunder.
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His Friends indeed believ'd the Cheat,
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And fancy'd still to keep their State,
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As if a King would make them great,
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Who wish'd him never able:
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Or was it Satyr-like design'd
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To intimate the Monarch blind,
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Not wisely knowing Foe from Friend,
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Like Doctor Bungey's Rabble.
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But he has took away the Doubt,
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For Townsend's in, and Gambol out,
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And the whole French Party's put to Rout
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By a Hand that right dispenses.
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Nor past in Silence let it be,
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That Justice now once more can see,
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And in Conclusion, happily
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We all may find Five Senses.
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Now let all honest Britons joyn,
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And drink with grateful Hearts, as mine,
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To him who form'd the great Design,
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And sav'd us by his Merit.
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But who's this mighty, mighty he,
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Name Hallifax, and I'll agree,
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Who favour has found in our Deity,
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And been our Guardian Spirit.
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A Health to all, whom of his Grace,
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The King has chose to put in place,
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To save Britannia and her Race,
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From Dangers that beset her:
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Those that were in, did act so ill,
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To change for worse required Skill;
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But GEORGE has made it harder still
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To change these for the better.
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