ODE: IN HONOUR OF THE NUPTIALS OF THEIR ROYAL HIGHNESSES THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF WALES.
ODE In Honour of The NUPTIALS of Their Royal Highnesses The PRINCE And PRINCESS of WALES Written
and
Composed BY Mr Dibdin.
LONDON Printed by the Author & Sold at his Warehouse
in Strand
opposite the Adelphi
TO
HER GRACIOUS MAJESTY,
THE QUEEN OF GREAT-BRITAIN, As an humble Mite towards the universal Admiration of the
DOMESTIC VIRTUES
OF THAT Most exemplary of Wives and Mothers, THIS ODE IS INSCRIBED, WITH THE PROFOUNDEST DEFERENCE AND RESPECT▪ BY
Her Majesty's faithful Subject, And devoted Servant, C. DIBDIN.
PREFACE.
THE following poem is not more an effusion of loyalty, than it is a public congratulation. The relative happiness likely to result from the union it celebrates, is seriously and solemnly interesting to every British subject; since the equivocal tenure of regal power in other countries, must naturally render every additional link to the chain of public security here, an object of considerable magnitude; and, as hereditary right is the strongest support of the constitution, and the fairest ornament of the crown, as experience has given us proof upon proof how dangerous to this nation is a doubtful right, every honest man must of course bless an event likely to ensure the English throne to the present family.
As to the poem itself, it may perhaps be necessary to say something in explanation of it; for I am willing to acknowledge, that warmth and fancy seldom permit me to conform to mere rule; and that, in general, I have better succeeded when my hand has obeyed my conception, than when cold correctness has shrouded my ideas in a regular arrangement of words.
I call it an ode, as the most unexceptionable description I can give it. It is not, however, an ode strictly speaking; for I do not clog myself with the dull regularity of making my STROPHE turn to the left, my ANTISTROPHE to the right, or my EPODE sing before the altar. It is not lyric, except in the best sense of the acceptation, that of being written for music. Of the dithyrambic, it certainly possesses the rapture, but not the phrenzy. It is not Pindaric, for though it has flights in plenty, it aims at no sublimity but that which is the offspring of simplicity.
In some respects it resembles the epithalamium, but not in all; for that species of panegyric, generally taken, is purchased praise, performed in the presence of the bride and bridegroom, circumstances that will not be attributed to me or to my poem; for all the world should not buy my commendation; and the work itself will sufficiently vouch for me that there is too much of the heart in it to savour of solicitation.
Its irregularities, however, are its advantages, for they furnish a bolder scope to the imagination, and give additional force and effect to the most enchanting of all mediums that ever conveyed pleasure to the heart. In a word, I have gone for strength without heaviness, praise without adulation, figure without distortion; I have endeavoured to be playful, not ludicrous; bold, not daring; easy, not quaint. But the most prominent feature in the picture is rapture; to which, perhaps, I may have given a latitude somewhat bordering on that extravagance which, on ordinary occasions, literally taken, might be called hyperbole; but which, upon the present occasion, applied figuratively, is appropriate and in place.
I think I shall be allowed some credit for the construction of the poem. There is a novelty in commanding the attendance of the muses and their mission to the celestials, and the groupe bending from Olympus to behold the landing of the princess, would not make an unworthy figure upon canvass. The salutation of Britannia is interesting, and her leading the bride in nuptial pomp to the temple of Hymen, surrounded by an admiring populace, is still more so. Nor can Englishmen hear unmoved that prophecy of Fame at the conclusion, which I, for one, wish with all my soul may be literally verified.
As to the music itself, it is composed, not constructed; written to the heart, not to the head; I have made melody my outline; and, through the wide range of that field of fancy, I have endeavoured to excite feeling, create interest, and convey pleasure. As to the harmony, no more now, than upon other occasions, have I any thing abstruse; for, though I have plenty of modulation, yet I have taken every possible care cautiously to avoid an obtrusion of discord into the temple of Hymen.
In short, I have written as I felt. I am rejoiced at this event, because I am an Englishman; because the true security of English freedom, that my father taught me to venerate, that I liberally enjoy, and that will constitute the best happiness of my children, will be promoted by it. Therefore, be my ode Lyric, Dithyrambic, or Pindaric; a mixture of all, or a likeness of none, it is honest and sincere, and comes warm from the heart. Thus, though I only shall have manifested my admiration of those who are more immediately concerned, and my gratitude to the public, who are collaterally interested, my labour will not have been in vain, for I shall have gratified an ardent zeal, and added one shout, though but a feeble one, to the willing and merited acclamations of a loyal and happy people.
ODE: IN HONOUR OF THE NUPTIALS OF
THEIR ROYAL HIGHNESSES
THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF WALES.
RECITATIVE, ACCOMPANIED.
DESCEND, and consecrate, ye sacred Nine,
The nuptial rites of GEORGE and CAROLINE:
Nor courted, nor invok'd, but wing your way,
Yourselves inspired, my mighty theme to obey!
And first, sweet Polyhimnia, muse of sound,
Verb'rate thy lyre; and, while thou spread'st around,
Trembling Aether sweetly filling,
Thy rapturous airs so soft, so thrilling,
Possess me, rule each sense at thy control;
Strain following strain,
Again, and yet again:
Come, with thy melody entrance my longing soul.
AIR,
In gliding measure charm to thee
The playful nymph Terpsichore,
With ease, and grace, and look askance:
Her panting bosom burning,
As, twining, twisting, turning,
In winning guise, she leads the mazy dance.
Now soft and soothing be thy strain,
To ease the fond Erato's pain,
Whisper, that in her realm, no more
False, fickle love shall she deplore;
Bid her behold, with glad surprise,
Her mistress in Love's tender arts,
A princess comes, to bless our isle,
Whose form shall captivate all eyes,
And whose example fix all hearts.
Bid her the trembling tear to dry,
To dissipate the deep-heav'd sigh,
To smooth her low'ring brow, and smile.
And join, accompany'd by thee,
The playful nymph Terpsichore,
With ease, and grace, and look askance;
Her panting bosom burning,
As twisting, twining, turning,
In winning guise, she leads the mazy dance.
RECITATIVE, ACCOMPANIED.
Now change the strain, and to thy spell
Mighty Calliope compel—
Displaying ample history's page—
Bid her Urania bring; a virgin, and a sage:
Who, skill'd in Science' wond'rous lore,
Can suns, and worlds, and heavens explore:
And—a triumvirate to fill—
Bid Clio, her celestial skill,
To aid the glorious purpose, join.
And, while the trumpet's silver notes proclaim
So great, so mighty, so august a name;
Bid them transmit to fame
Those truths divine,
That speak the glory of the Brunswick line.
But hark! upon the ear what rustic strain
Cleaves the free air? 'Tis gay Euterpe's train,
That sylvan, faun, and hamadriade, lead,
With horn, and flageolet, and oaten reed!
AIR.
And first the horn, whose mellow sound,
Wakes Echo in the hollow rocks,
To inspire the fleet, sagacious hound
Where to un-earth the subtle fox.
The flageolet shall imitate
The feathered songster, by his mate,
Sequestered in the conscious grove,
Impervious to all eyes but Love.
And now, as the lorn nightingale
Mourns, sadly, in the pensive vale,
Day's labour at an end,
Rustics the winding dance shall lead,
To the cadence of Euterpe's reed,
And mirth with sadness blend.
AIR.
And thou, Melpomene, appear,
Whose woes find no relief,
Whose mind's best joy's the social tear,
Whose luxury is grief:
Behold her!—dim each sorrowing eye—
But let the torrent flow!
Be hallow'd that sweet sympathy
That mourns for others' woe.
AIR.
Nor thou, Thalia, gay and trim,
Skulk, where behind thy mask thou'rt peeping,
Come forth, with frolic Wit and Whim,
Rouse sluggard Dullness, as he's sleeping.
With honest gibe, and moral jeer,
And humour, Honour's cause adorning;
Come, dissipate thy sister's tear,
As cheers the sun an April morning.
Say, as her grief thou bid'st her dry,
Each passion's virtue in its season,
That, as 'tis folly loud to cry,
So, laughing loud is sometimes reason.
RECITATIVE, ACCOMPANIED.
Begone! disperse like air!
To blue Olympus fly!
There,
Placed on high,
As the celestials, in their roseate bowers,
Play with the Smiles, and count the dancing Hours,
Strike the loud spheres!
Your voices raise,
And charm their captured ears
Proclaiming Caroline's unequall'd praise.
Her wisdom bid Minerva fear;
Bid her, who young Endymion embraced,
Blush, and resign the name of chaste;
Tell lovely Venus and the dimpl'd Graces
To yield to truth, and own,
All sweet, all beautiful, as are their faces.
Her face perfection boasts alone.
All, all, while sitting in celestial state,
That which they cannot equal, bid them wonder at:
And, as your mandate they attend,
And from the silver clouds astonish'd bend,
Bid them behold, with a benignant smile,
The rapture that pervades Great Britain's happy isle.
MARCH.
Fir'd with my theme, thus gave I Nature law;
Will'd at a wish, and what I fancied saw.
AIR.
I saw the gods, in troops attending,
Well pleas'd, from high Olympus bending!
While playful Neriedes gaily gave
The splendid yatch to Neptune's wave:
I heard old Jove by Styx declare
He ne'er saw mortal half so fair;
While Juno own'd he'd ne'er known strife,
Could she, like her, have prov'd a wife;
Minerva said, proud to extol her,
She'd always been her aptest scholar;
Again her mirror and again
Venus regarded, but in vain;
Then rubb'd the surface, 'twas not right,
At last she broke it out of spight.
One call'd for nectar, "Go and sip,"
Cry'd Hebe, "Nectar from her lip;"
Mars, proudly, said, he saw a race
Of future heroes in her face;
While rough-hewn Neptune, smiling, swore
Ne'er had his billows borne before
A lovelier Venus to a happier shore.
RECITATIVE, ACCOMPANIED.
And truly Neptune swore; scarce smil'd the fair,
To thank old Ocean for his anxious care,
But troops of bards burst forth in one fond lay—
For light is light, and day we still call day—
And, as the obvious truth fell from each tongue,
By each proud heart inspir'd, they felt and sung.
AIR.
Hail lovely wonder, honour's meed,
Rule every heart that virtue prizes,
Eclipse each fair, as stars recede,
When from old Ocean Venus rises.
Haste, Haste, with sacred love and truth,
Grace smiling Hymen's blest communion;
Haste and reward the only youth
Whose virtues merit such an union.
II.
See pictur'd in her face her mind,
Beauty and goodness ne'er asunder;
While Envy, now, no longer blind,
Grows kindness, and subsides to wonder!
Roses bloom beneath her feet,
Cupids for a smile implore her,
While Zephyr steals a kiss so sweet,
It perfumes all the way before her.
RECITATIVE, ACCOMPANIED.
Mute Admiration, that had hush'd the crowd,
Yielded to acclamations warm and loud;
For lo! a sight that ever shall impart
Strong, strong emotions to each British heart!
Scarce had the Princess, on the peopled strand,
Admired the beauty of fair Freedom's land,
When, in majestic grandeur, stood revealed,
Bright as her crest, refulgent as her shield,
BRITANNIA!—with a tender zeal impress'd,
As tutelary guardian of her lovely guest:
And oh! ineffable was the angelic smile
That bid the glorious stranger welcome to her isle.
Nor ended there
Those shouts that rent the air;
But as distinctions, honours, on the way,
Still courted some solicitous delay,
Their longing eyes pursu'd the splendid train,
Nor lost them till they reach'd fair Hymen's fane,
Whom they address'd in fervent prayer.
AIR.
Sacred Hymen, on this night,
Thy torch with fire celestial light;
And, in thy smiling crown of flowers,
Symbol this pair's delicious hours.
Let Flora's rose the wreath adorn,
Deprived of each intruding thorn;
Let the fond heliotrope be there;
And Venus' myrtle fresh and fair:
Mars, for his laurel, next invoke,
And blend it with the civic oak;
So Bliss, Fame, Constancy, shall prove
Their lot bestowed by thee and Love.
RECITATIVE ACCOMPANIED.
Here let me pause, ye powers, or let me claim.
Than inspiration, some superior name;
Give me to speak the force of every grace,
Perfection e'er bestowed on form or face,
With all the gifts concentred in the mind,
When gods their essence blend with human-kind;
So my strong zeal shall disappoint despair,
So shall I sing the worth of this illustrious pair.
AIR.
So shall I paint, in conflict tender,
As fear and joy alternate strove,
That form that bid her heart surrender,
While burning blushes spoke her love.
Not Sol, that Belvidere delighted,
Nor yet Alcides of Farnese;
A form more perfect, that united
Superior strength, with nobler ease.
II.
So shall I paint that manly beauty,
That worth, to truth and virtue dear,
That mildness, honour, goodness, duty,
All hearts admire, all minds revere.
These, as his portrait faintly charmed her,
Won her consent to be a wife;
Now Love's promethean ardour warmed her,
And breathed the picture into life.
RECITATIVE, ACCOMPANIED.
Nor shall my glowing mind its ardour cease,
Till, as I paint their happiness increase,
In willing numbers, no less warm than true,
I lay futurity to open view:
And, while a people join in loud acclaim,
Tell to the universe the prophecy of Fame.
AIR.
Long on this isle, the solar ray,
Benignant eye of favouring Heaven,
Shall beam, to consecrate the day,
That saw a Brunswick to a Brunswick given.
Swell every voice, beat every heart,
All in the general bliss bear part;
While the loud trumpet's notes proclaim
Fate's fiat, by the mouth of Fame.
"In other states, while rule and power
"That strut the pageant of an hour,
"Treason destroys, and time absorbs,
"Like circling planets in their orbs:
"Here shall a happy people's joys
"Revolve in one just equipoise,
"While time and virtue shall endure,
"Their honour safe, their rights secure.
"Confirmed to this blest race alone,
"England's hereditary throne."
THE END.