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GLEE for Four Voices.

Earl of MORNINGTON.-Prize, 1779.

HERE in cool grot and mossy cell,
We rural fays and fairies dwell;
Tho' rarely seen by mortal eye,
When the pale moon ascending high,
Darts thro' yon limes her quiv'ring beams,
We frisk it near these crystal streams;
Her beams reflected from the wave,
Afford the light our revels crave;
The turf with daisies 'broider'd o'er,
Exceeds, we wot, the Parian floor;
Nor yet for artful strains we call,
But listen to the water-fall.

GLEE for Three Voices.

HERE'S a health to all good lasses,
Pledge it merrily, fill your glasses,
Let a bumper toast go round;
May they live a life of pleasure,
Without mixture without measure,
For with them true joys are found.

Shenstone.

GUGLIELMI.

GLEE for Four Voices.

HALCYON days, now wars are ending,

You shall find whene'er you sail,
Tritons all the while attending

With a kind and gentle gale;

Dr COOKE.

No stars again shall hurt you from above,
But all your days shall pass in peace and love.

Da Capo.

Dryden.

GLEE for Four Voices.

Dr. COOKE.-Medal, 1771.

And for Three Voices.

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blest!
When spring with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod;
Than fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung,
There honour comes, a pilgrim grey,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And freedom shall awhile repair,
To dwell a weeping hermit there.

F. IRELAND.

Collins.

GLEE for Four Voices.

S. PAXTON.-Medal, 1779.

How sweet, how fresh, this vernal day,

How musical the air!

Nature was never seen so gay,

Were but my Silvio near.

Hush! wanton birds, your am'rous song

Alarms my virgin breast;

Retire, sweet whist❜ling winds be gone,
Retire, 'tis love's request.

ROUND for Three Voices.

Dr. ALDRICH.

HARK! the bonny Christ-church bells,

One, two, three, four, five, six,

They sound so woundy great,
So wond'rous sweet,

And they troul so merrily.
Hark! the first and second bell,

That ev'ry day, at four and ten,

Cries, come, come, come, come, come to prayers,
And the verger troops before the Dean.

Tingle, tingle, ting, goes the small bell at nine,

To call the beerers home;

But there's ne'er a man will leave his can,

'Till he hears the mighty Tom.

Dr. Aldrich, late Dean of Christ Church.

oices!

GLEE for Six Voices.

HENCE all ye vain delights!

As short as are the nights

Wherein you spend your folly! There's nought in this life sweet, If man were wise to see't,

But only melancholy; Oh! sweetest melancholy.

Welcome folded arms and fixed eyes,
A sigh that piercing, mortifies ;
A look that's fasten'd to the ground;
A tongue chain'd up-without a sound:

Fountain heads, and pathless groves,
Places which pale passion loves,
Moon-light walks, when all the fowls
Are safely hous'd, save bats and owls.

A midnight bell! a parting groan !
These are the sounds we feed upon!

S. WERBE.

Then stretch our bones in a still, gloomy valley,

Nothing so dainty sweet as melancholy.

Beaumont and Fletcher.

GLEE for Four Voices.

HAIL! Star of Brunswick!

S. WEBBE.

If war's ordained, this star shall dart it's beams
Thro' that black cloud; which, rising from the Thames,
With thunder form'd of Brunswick's wrath, is sent
To claim the seas and awe the continent:

This shall direct it where the bolt to throw,

A star, for us; a comet, to the foe.

If

peace shall smile by this, shall commerce steer
A steady course in triumph round the sphere;
And gath❜ring tribute from each distant shore,
In BRITAIN's lap the world's abundance pour.

Young.

GLEE for Four Voices.

HOPE tells a flatt'ring tale,
Delusive vain and hollow;
Ah! let not hope prevail,
Lest disappointment follow.
But if hope must prevail,
Instead of flatt'ring tale
Delusive, vain and hollow;
Direct her to that happy shore,
Where expectation is no more,
And disappointment cannot follow.

I

RT. COOKE.

Miss Wrother.

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