Mand Glorious, And Gaul Thrice Vanquish'D By His Hand. Let Her At Least Perform What I Desire, With Second Breath The Vocal Brass Inspire, And Tell The Nations In No Vulgar Strain, What Wars I Manage, And What Wreaths I Gain, And When Thy Tumults And Thy Fights Are Past, And When Thy Laurels At My Feet Are Cast; Faithful May'St Thou, Like British Henry Prove, And Emma-Like Let Me Return Thy Love. Renown'D For Truth Let All Thy Sons Appear, And Constant Beauty Shall Reward Their Care. Mars Smiled, And Bow'D: The Cyprian Deity Turn'D To The Glorious Ruler Of The Sky; And Thou, She Smiling Said, Great God Of Days And Verse, Behold My Deed And Sing My Praise; As On The British Earth, My Favourite Isle, Thy Gentle Rays And Kindest Influence Smile, Through All Her Laughing Fields And Verdant Groves Proclaim With Joy These Memorable Loves: From Every Annual Course Let One Great Day To Celebrate Sports And Floral Play Be Set Aside; And In The Softest Lays Of Thy Poetic Sons, Be Solemn Praise And Everlasting Marks Of Honour Paid To The True Lover And The Nut-Brown Maid.