CHORUS.
Rare Runnymede such pleasures producing,
No language of mortals is equal to tell;
Tho’ Moses declines it, my Muse thus defines it:
The paradise where our progenitors fell.
When the midwife, our welcome deliverer, came,
Runnymede witness’d a great revolution;
From bondage she brought us, and Nature, dear dame,
To Britain’s brave sons gave their good Constitution:
For blessings like these, let gratitude seize