Synopsis

THOU, whose mild radiance all adore, O let not human-kind deplore The loss of thy propitious smile: Why, Goddess, in such wild affright, Wilt thou from Europe take thy flight? O stay, to bless Britannia's favour'd isle! Lo! where, in vengeful steel array'd, His bloody banners wide display'd, Fierce War, with angry aspect, stands: O! loveliest of the heav'n-born train! Shall he thy spotless vesture stain, Or tear the olive from thy sacred hands?