_Marg._ Oh, true, true fellow! Believe me, honest friend, of all the bolts, Which spiteful fortune hurls against my crown, None strike so deeply, as my poor ability Now to requite thy faith. _Gondi._ The subject, madam, Who, in his poor endeavour, can relieve A sovereign from distress, they, who are loyal, Will pour down blessings on him; that requital Threefold o'erpays his services. But here, Heaven has, in pity of me, now pour'd balm Upon my bleeding sufferings. _Marg._ What, my young warrior! _Adeline._ A weak one, madam;--and a woman too. Your pardon, madam, if, to seek a husband,-- Happy has been my search--more than the cause, Altho' my heart is warm in't--brought me hither. _Gondi._ Your guard approaches, madam, and the villagers, _Enter KNIGHTS and SOLDIERS._ Anxious, in zeal, to see their royal mistress, In throngs have follow'd. _Enter VILLAGERS, MALE and FEMALE, on each Side._ _Marg._ This is a cheering sight! Soon may this warmth be general; and may Henry Bask in its genial sunshine.--England, awhile, farewell! And if in future times--no doubt 'twill be so-- Thy King unite his people to his confidence, And his commanding virtues, mild, yet kingly, Shall draw the breath of rapturous loyalty From the gilt palace to the clay-built cottage, Then will thy realm, indeed, be enviable. Strike!----Then on. _Procession of SOLDIERS, and Grand Chorus of VILLAGERS._ _Sea-girt England, fertile land!_ _Plenty, from her richest stores,_ _Ever, with benignant hand,_ _Her treasure on thy bosom pours._ _England! to thyself be true;_ _When thy realm is truly blest,_ _'Tis when a monarch's love for you_ _Is by your loyalty confest._ THE END.