Thus may our Children find
Cause which will e’er remind
Them to agree,
That we with Justice sing.
God bless our good old King,
For him, our Noble King,
This Jubilee.”
This is not the sole attempt at a Jubilee literature. There was a satirical pamphlet called “The Jubilee; or, John Bull in his Dotage. A Grand National Pantomime. As it was to have been acted by His Majesty’s subjects on the 25th of October, 1809.” Another pamphlet, by Dr. Joseph Kemp, was entitled “The Patriotic Entertainment, called the Jubilee.” And yet another book of 203 pages printed in Birmingham, which had for title, “An Account of the Celebration of the Jubilee of 1809 in various parts of the Kingdom.” This was arranged in alphabetical order, and gave an account of the doings, on this occasion, in the various cities, towns, and villages of England. It was published by subscription, and the profits were to go to the “Society for the Relief of Prisoners for Small Debts.”
There was a poem, too, which is too long to be reproduced in its entirety, but which contains some pretty lines, such as would go home to a people who really loved their king—who had suffered when God had afflicted him, and yearned for his recovery, and who were then spending both blood, and treasure, to preserve his throne and their own country.
“Seculo festas referente luces,
Reddidi carmen.”—Horace.
“Oft (ah! how oft) has the revolving Sun
Smiled on Britannia’s joy at battles won?
How oft our bosoms felt the conscious glow
For brilliant triumph o’er the stubborn foe?
If, then, our patriot hearts could proudly feel
Such zealous transports at our Country’s weal,
Shall not the Bard his cheerful efforts lend
To praise that Country’s first and truest friend?
For such is George, the pride of England’s Throne,
True to his people’s rights as to his own.
•••••••
Mild is the Prince, and glorious were the arts,
That gave him sov’reign empire o’er our hearts.
Our love for him is such as ever flows
Spontaneous, warm, and strength’ning as it glows;
Unlike the smiles, and flattery of Courts,
Which int’rest prompts, and tyranny extorts;
A Monarch so belov’d has nought to fear
From mad ambition’s turbulent career;
For subjects ne’er from their allegiance swerve,
Who love his person they are bound to serve.
•••••••