AN ODE Set to Music on Mrs. B—'s Birth Day

When Caesar's birth-day glads Britannia's isle, The earth exults and nature seems to smile: Th' uplifted trumpet's awful sound, United acclamations round, And thund'ring cannon's awful roar, Shake with rude transport Albion's shore.

But in more soft and pleasing lays Let us our joy display; Oh! swell the tend'rest note of praise To hail Eliza's day.

For with fair truth and love divine, Her peaceful soul is blest; And all the winning virtues shine Serenely in her breast.

Like some pure placid stream that flows Gently and free from stain, Dispensing blessings as it goes, Along the flowry'ry plain:

So she thro' life her equal way Glides on with spotless name: Oh! may this oft returning day Encrease her modest fame!