Genius of a suffering land,

Whom the curst Enchanter's hand

Vex'd with bonds and worse disdain,

Well have

you

dash'd off your chain,

Well have you repaid him now,

And must wear a laurell'd brow

Of a grace and of a hue,

Such as Conquest's merer crew

Never could have won for you.

Only when you take to wing,
And return to governing,
Recollect for those you rule,
What you learnt in Sorrow's school,
And acquaint their homes with me,
Triumph-teaching Liberty.

Seat you now in well-earn'd state,
While the pomps we celebrate.

The Genius here gracefully making an obeisance moves on towards the side-scene, and then quitting his chariot, which is borne away, turns round and ascends

for his throne a portion of the cloud, which the cherubs roll off for that purpose. When he is seated, he puts on his crown, and Mabiel proclaims,—

So our Goddess, wise and free,

Wills that every crown should be :-
This is the true sovereignty.

Trumpets as before :-an Austrian march ;-enter a similar Genius in a car sculptured with instruments of war and music, a silver eagle standing on the frontedge. Liberty in the same manner presents him with a crown, and addresses him :

Genius of a suffering land,

Whom the curst Enchanter's hand

Pluck'd from your old towering height,
Well have you return'd to light ;—

Well have you repaid him now,

And must wear a laurell'd brow

Of a grace and of a hue,

Such as Conquest's merer crew

Never could have won for you.

Only this remember well
For your surest counter-spell,-

'Tis not age and height alone

Can secure the staidest throne

From the reach of Change or Death,—

But an eye to all beneath,

And an air kept pure for me

Life-supplying Liberty.

Seat you now in well-earn'd state,
While the pomps we celebrate.

The Genius takes his seat by the side of the preceding one, and puts on his laurel, upon which Phaniel proclaims,——

So our Goddess, wise and free,

Wills that every crown should be :

This is the true sovereignty.

Trumpets as before :-a Russian march ;-enter a similar Genius in a car of chrystal ice sculptured with instruments of war and with scaffolded cities, a golden

eagle standing on the front-edge. Liberty presents

him with the crown, and addresses him :

Genius of a rising land,

Whom the foil'd Enchanter's hand
Reach'd but to recoil with pain,
Well have you repuls'd his chain,-
Well have you repaid him now,

And must wear a laurell'd brow
Of a grace and of a hue,

Such as Conquest's merer crew

Never could have won for you.

Would you

make it nobler still?

There's a land was heap'd with ill

By sinning pow'rs that rul'd before you,
Whose repentant pains implore you,
Joining with this free-voic'd season,

And your own asserted reason,
To restore it. Do,-and blest
For this good deed and all the rest;

Be esteem'd; and may the ray
Which you've help'd to clear away,

}

Stretch into your distant sphere,

Without the storms that brought it here.

Seat you now in well-earn'd state,

While the pomps we celebrate.

The Genius here moves round the scene, so as to return to the side at which he entered, and seats himself opposite to the preceding one; then putting on his laurel, Mabiel proclaims :

So our Goddess, wise and free,

Wills that every crown should be :--
This is the true sovereignty.

Trumpets as before. Britons, strike home; enter a similar Genius, but with a laurel already on his head, and a halo of light also about it. He is in a car sculptured with emblems of all the arts, a golden lion standing on the front-edge. Liberty smilingly spreads forth her hand at his approach, and addresses him :—