Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

GLEE for Six Voices.

S, Werbe, 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 !

Then stretch our bones in a still, gloomy valley,
Nothing so dainty sweet as melancholy.

Beaumont and Fletcher.

GLEE for Four Voices.

S. WEBBE. HAIL! Star of Brunswick!

i
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.

Rr. CookE. 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.

Miss Wrother.
I

[ocr errors]

ON GOLD.
GLEE for Four Voices.

Wm. Dixox.
Had heaps of treasur'd gold the power,
To stay the life-resigning hour;
My heart from pleasure I'd withhold,
And only live to hoard up gold-;
That royal bribes from day to day,
Might charm the tyrant death away.

[ocr errors]

But since no treasur'd heaps have pow'r,
To stay the fate compelling hour,
Insensate, why should I complain,
And render life's short blessings vain ?

Be't mine to drain the rosy bowl,
Whilst social mirth exalts the soul ;
Or on soft beds entranc'd, to prove
The sweeter joys of sweetest love.

From Anacreon, by Addison, Ode XXIII.

GLEE for Four Voices.

R. SPOFFORTH.

Hail! smiling morn ! that tips the hills with gold,

Whose rosy fingers ope the gates of day; Who the gay face of nature doth unfold,

At whose bright presence darkness flies away.

GLEE for Four Voices.

F. GIARDINI. Here lies my wife, poor Phillis! let her lie; She's found repose at last, and so have I.

WRITTEN DURING A THUNDER STORM.

GLEE* for Five Voices.

W. Hawes. How

low dread the crash ! how vivid is the glare !

Now, Atheist, tremble! and deny thy God! Now, face his heralds ! and his vengeance dare !

Or bow submissive to his awful nod.

Again it rolls ! and Albion's centre quakes !

Again the lightnings flash from pole to pole! The domes resound! the solid fabric shakes!

And Nature seems to war without controul.

Emblem ! faint emblem! of that coming day,

When the loud clarion shall awake the ball;
The earth and skies in wild confusion lay,
And ruin! mighty ruin ! cover all !

Cambridge Newspaper.

# This Glee was a Candidate for the Gold Medal given at the Noble. mens' Catch Club in 1812, and stood second at the final decision.

DUET.

Dr. Boyce.

Here shall soft charity repair,

And break the bonds of grief; Down the harrow'd couch of care,

Man to man must bring relief.

Cradock, Esq.

GLEE for Four Voices.

R. J. S, STEVENS. Hence away, ye Syrens leave me,

And unclasp your wanton arms; Sugar'd' words shall not deceive me, Tho' you prove a thousand charms.

Fie, fie, forbear!

No common snare
Can ever my affections chain :

Thy painted baits,

And poor deceits,
Are all bestow'd on me in vain.

Can he prize the tainted posies,

Which on ev'ry breast are worn; That may pluck the spotless roses From their never-touched thorn ?

I can go rest,

On her sweet breast,
That is the pride of Cynthia's train :

Then stay thy tongue,

Thy mermaid song,
Is all bestow'd on me in vain ?

George Withers.

« ZurückWeiter »