A SONG FOR The King's Birth Day, Being the Fourth of November. Composed by Dr. Nicholas Staggins, Master of His Majesty's Music.  

TO England's Monarch, Holland's Chief,  
Of France, the Terror, Awe, and Grief,  
To Europe's Champion, Strength, and Stay,  
We Sing the Triumphs of this Glorious Day.  
The Day which gave him Birth,  
And gave to us new Life again;  
When Xerxes like, but surer He,  
In Fetters held our trembling Sea,  
That He might free Three Kingdoms from their Chain.   

Welcome, thrice welcome Royal SIR,  
From the Fatigues and toils of War,  
To these your fostered Isles,  
And to your chaste ●ARIA'S Charms and Smiles,  
The Land Triumphs, her Natives Sing,  
In Winter we possess a Spring,  
And Mirth resounds from every place,  
And Love, and Joy appear in every face.   

Awake my Muse, awake my Lyre,  
Try if any Strain be higher;  
Touch at that more lofty Strain,  
Join in one harmonious Choir,  
To welcome our RESTORER back again.   

Silence Lyre, surcease thy Tone,  
Silence Muse, and humbly own;  
All that Sounds and Words can speak,  
All's too little, all's too weak;  
All that Gratitude can show,  
All that Loyalty can do,  
All, and more than all is due.   

His Royal Virtues far excel,  
All that History can tell,  
Caesar's mighty swelling Name,  
Stoops to his more Glorious Fame:  
He came, he saw, he conquered too,  
Our Hero did, what he refused to do:  
By Caesar's Arms Rome lost her Liberty,  
And Caesar's Glories are but dim,  
Caesar's, if compared to him,  
Who came, and saw, and set us Free.   

He weighs not the Grandeur, or State of a Crown,  
But aspires to more solid and mighty Renown;  
His forward Attempts on the Land and the Main,  
The Battle o'th' Boyne, and a Flanders Campaign,  
Show fully, His Actions were never designed  
For aught, but the Peace, and the good of Mankind.   

And Heavens (we hope) has fresh Crowns in store,  
For those who still can merit more:  
For the Moderate and Wise,  
Whom Greatness cannot overpoize;  
For the Generous and Brave,  
Who never Fight to Conquer, but to Save.   

Go on Mighty Prince, go on to receive  
All the Trophies that Virtue and Honour can give:  
May the Heavens defend you,  
Success still attend you,  
And Victory wait wheresoever You bend You.  
Both at Home, and Abroad,  
May Your Enemies be Awed,  
Till Europe with England shall join in a Chorus,  
And Sing Your loud Praises, and own that 'tis YOU that restore us.   
FINIS.   

Printed by T. M. for J. M. 1691.