Discite justitiam, moniti, et non temnere divos.

Over the queen, this of the same author,

Non ignara mali, miscris succurrere disco.

ALBION AND ALBANIUS.

AN

OPERA.

DECORATIONS OF THE STAGE IN THE FIRST ACT.

The Curtain rises, and there appears on either side of the Stage, next to the Frontispiece, a Statue on Horseback of Gold, on Pedestals of Marble, enriched with Gold, and bearing the Imperial Arms of England.  One of these Statues is taken from that of the late King at Charing-cross; the other from that figure of his present Majesty (done by that noble Artist, Mr. Gibbons) at Windsor.

The Scene is a Street of Palaces, which lead to the Front of the Royal-Exchange; the great Arch is open, and the view is continued through the open part of the Exchange, to the Arch on the other side, and thence to as much of the Street beyond, as could possibly be taken.

MERCURY DESCENDS IN A CHARIOT DRAWN BY RAVENS.

He comes to Augusta and Thamesis.  They lie on Couches at a distance from each other in dejected postures; She attended by Cities, He by Rivers.

On the side of Augusta’s Couch are painted towers falling, a Scarlet Gown, and a Gold Chain, a Cap of Maintenance thrown down, and a Sword in a Velvet Scabbard thrust through it, the City Arms, a Mace with an old useless Charter, and all in disorder.  Before Thamesis are broken Reeds, Bull-rushes, Sedge, &c. with his Urn Reverst.

ACT I.

  MERCURY Descends.

Mer. Thou glorious fabric! stand, for ever stand: 
Well worthy thou to entertain
The God of Traffic, and of Gain,
To draw the concourse of the land,
And wealth of all the main. 
But where the shoals of merchants meeting? 
Welcome to their friends repeating,
Busy bargains’ deafer sound? 
Tongue confused of every nation? 
Nothing here but desolation,
Mournful silence reigns around.

Aug. O Hermes! pity me! 
I was, while heaven did smile,
The queen of all this isle,
Europe’s pride,
And Albion’s bride;
But gone my plighted lord! ah, gone is he! 
O Hermes! pity me!

Tham. And I the noble Flood, whose tributary tide
Does on her silver margent smoothly glide;
But heaven grew jealous of our happy state,
And bid revolving fate
Our doom decree;
No more the King of Floods am I,
No more the Queen of Albion, she!
                                [These two Lines are sung by Reprises
                                 betwixt AUGUSTA and THAMESIS.

Aug. O Hermes! pity me! } Sung by AUG. and
} THAM. together.
Tham. O Hermes! pity me! }

Aug. Behold!

Tham. Behold!