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the Benefit of the City of London lying in Hospital | the Benefit of the City of London lying in Hospital | ||
________ | ________ | ||
In Rome the | In Rome the Civic crown adorn'd the brave | ||
Whose sword a single citizen could save; | Whose sword a single citizen could save; | ||
What | What wreaths then Ladies shall your temples bind | ||
Whose Charity takes in all human kind; | Whose Charity takes in all human kind; | ||
Who to the child unborn extend your care, | Who to the child unborn extend your care, | ||
And snatch the pregnant matron from despair; | And snatch the pregnant matron from despair; | ||
Wipe the | Wipe the big drop that trembles in her eye, | ||
And all her complicated wants supply! | And all her complicated wants supply! | ||
Such are your pleasures! your | Such are your pleasures! your cælestial task! | ||
More prompt to give, than misery to ask! | More prompt to give, than misery to ask! | ||
Go on - the sacred ministry pursue | Go on - the sacred ministry pursue | ||
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And sickness, pain, and famine threat no more, | And sickness, pain, and famine threat no more, | ||
What prayers for you will wing their way to Heaven, | What prayers for you will wing their way to Heaven, | ||
What | What frailties if you have them, be forgiven! | ||
Each hardy son, whom your kind hand shall raise | Each hardy son, whom your kind hand shall raise | ||
Will to great Britain consecrate his days; | Will to great Britain consecrate his days; | ||
Her Arts her Commerce, her domain extend | Her Arts her Commerce, her domain extend | ||
Or force her haughty enemies to bend: | Or force her haughty enemies to bend: | ||
Latest revision as of 01:59, 24 July 2017
An occasional Prologue spoken by Miss Younge at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane for the Benefit of the City of London lying in Hospital ________ In Rome the Civic crown adorn'd the brave Whose sword a single citizen could save; What wreaths then Ladies shall your temples bind Whose Charity takes in all human kind; Who to the child unborn extend your care, And snatch the pregnant matron from despair; Wipe the big drop that trembles in her eye, And all her complicated wants supply! Such are your pleasures! your cælestial task! More prompt to give, than misery to ask! Go on - the sacred ministry pursue Angels in Form - Angels in Office too.
Think when the mothers pangs to joy give place
And the sweet babe he's smiling in four face, When all her anguish, all her fears are o'er, And sickness, pain, and famine threat no more, What prayers for you will wing their way to Heaven, What frailties if you have them, be forgiven!
Each hardy son, whom your kind hand shall raise
Will to great Britain consecrate his days; Her Arts her Commerce, her domain extend Or force her haughty enemies to bend: