AN ODE Performed at the Anniversary Feast of the Gentlemen, Natives of the County of Kent, AT Merchant-Taylors-Hall, Nou. 21. 1700.  
Set to Music by Mr Barret.  

HArk, Music, hark, Melodious Sounds are made:  
A Noble Theme in moving Numbers laid,  
Is to our Sense by moving Notes conveyed.  
Apollo takes his Harp and plays:  
The God of Music sings the Praise  
Of KENT, the Darling of his Rays.   

Fair Land, that glads my wondering Eye,  
While round the Spacious Orb I fly,  
Proud of my Lustre, here I view  
The Sprightly products of my Rays in you.   

Upon thy fertile sides  
The Thames with Plenty loaded glides,  
Enriching thee with tributary Tides.  
Britain's Glory, Safety, Trade,  
Within thy Medway's Arms are laid,  
And KENT is England's Bulwark made.   

By thee her Fleets protected are,  
By thee are furnished out for War.  
In Peace secured within thy Land,  
In War by thee are bravely manned.   

The Goddess of the British Isle  
Fair Liberty on Thee does smile.  
Thy Lands Exempt from all Despotic sway,  
Their ancient Patrons ne'er betray:  
By long Succession sure,  
Riches and Titles here endure;  
But Vertue● with Estates come down,  
And from the Father bless the Son.   

No wonder Virtues there abound, 
This part down to the Grand Chorus was not set, lest the Entertainment should be too ●ong.   
Since Britain first was blessed,  
And with the Noblest Worship graced,  
On this Religious Ground.  
Blessed Land, Propped by thy ruling Powers,  
The Saving Gross was fixed on thy exalted towers.   

There Justice, Freedom, Plenty, Ease,  
The Pride of War, and Joys of Peace,  
And every Good are found:  
KENT with its ancient Honours great,  
Itself a Kingdom and a State,  
With every Bliss is crowned.   

Ye Generous Offspring of a Noble Land,  
Still every heart command;  
Still every Year your Minutes thus employ,  
And let your Goodness be diffusive as your Joy.   

There Nature placed you to oppose,  
And awe Britannia's Neighbouring Foes:  
Of Freedom fond, untaught to yield,  
The first to take, and last to quit the Field.  
That Mighty She, who did her Sex adorn,  
The Great Eliza here was Born.   

The very Swain here like a Noble lives,  
Blest in the Sweets that Freedom gives;  
Blest in the best of Representatives.  
Thus may ye yearly hither throng,  
Like Them your Joys improve;  
Still help each other, rear the young,  
And still promote Society and Love.   

Grand Chorus.  
Rejoice, Brave Sons of KENT,  
Hail! Crowned with loud Applause,  
Guard what your Fathers fixed of old,  
Our Altars and our Laws.  
Guard, what your Fathers fixed of old,  
When early pious, wisely bold,  
The conqueror they Controlled.   
FINIS.