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NM.762.009
6 Dec 1762:21 (222)
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 seem'd to rise
. . . [22 more lines]
Instant, I heard a silver-sounding voice,
Which sweetly sung, rejoice, rejoice,
Britons rejoice;
A son, a son to George is born;
Hail, hail, this happy, this auspicious morn!
. . . [10 lines]
A son, a son, a son, they sing!
. . . [3 lines, chorus:]
A son, a son to George is born,
Hail, hail, the happy, happy morn!
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