Oh! he slept sweetly all the while.
But when this rib was re-applied
In woman's form to Adam's side,
How then I pray you did it answer?
He never slept so sweet again, sir.
GLEE, for 4 Voices.-DANBY.
(Alto, 2 Tenors, Bass.)
AGAIN the balmy zephyr blows,
Fresh verdure decks the grove;
Each bird with vernal rapture glows,
And tunes his notes to love.
Sad Philomel, ah! quit thy haunt,
Yon distant woods among,
And round my friendly grotto chant
Thy sweetly plaintive song.
Ye gentle warblers, hither fly,
And shun the noontide heat,
My shrubs a cooling shade supply,
My groves a safe retreat.
Warren's Collection, No. 23.
CATCH, for 3 Voices.-WEBBE, Jun.
Au, friendship! balm of troubled minds,
A stern decree of fate,
Has robbed and plundered of its joys,
My heart, so blest of late.
Retired, apart from all the world,
The private tear I shed;
Since, lost my friend, no joy for me,
No peace but 'midst the dead.
From distant clime, where now he dwells,
Alas! there's no escape;
For me, alas! till he return,
There's nought to do but weep.
This gained a Prize Medal, 1794.
(Hime and Son, Liverpool.)
SONG, for 3 Voices.-HENRY PURCELL.
(Alto, Tenor, Bass.)
АH! how gladly we believe,
When the heart is but too willing;
Can that look, that face deceive?
Can she take delight in killing?
Ah! I die if you deceive me,
Yet I will, I will, believe me.
Warren's Collection, No. 20.
MADRIGAL, for 4 Voices.-T. WEELKES, 1598.
Aн, me! my wonted joys forsake me,
And deep despair doth overtake me;
Awhile I sung, but now I weep,
Thus sorrows run, when pleasures creep.
I wish to live, and yet I die,
For love hath wrought my misery.
Warren's Collection, No. 12.
CANON (three in one).-TRAVERS.
Ан, me! what perils do environ
The man that meddles with cold iron.
Warren's Collection, No. 1.
GLEE, for 4 Voices.-Irish Air, harmonized by BIGGS.
(Soprano, Alto, Tenor, Bass.)
Aн, me! with that false one how swiftly time passedTime ever remember'd, too happy to last!
But oh! speak not his name, source of tender regret,
For it pleasure recalls I had better forget.
Be still then, my heart, and thy fondness restrain,
Long treasured for one, but ah! treasured in vain.
Forget that to love me for ever he swore,
And only remember he loves me no more.
Oh, say is there aught that kind fate can bestow,
So dear as true passion's first delicate glow,
When hearts deeply conscious, repress the fond sigh,
While the mutual avowal still beams from the eye?
But cease, foolish heart, on such moments to dwell,
Forget the fond meeting and fonder farewell;
Forget that to love me for ever he swore,
And only remember he loves me no more.
GLEE, for 4 Voices.-W. HORSLEY, Mus. Bac. (Alto, 2 Tenors, Bass.)
Aн, well-a-day! how long must I endure
This pining pain, or who shall work my cure?
Fond Love no cure will have, seeks no repose,
Delights in grief, nor any measure knows.
And now the moon begins to rise,
And twinkling stars are lighted in the skies;
The winds are hush, the dews distil, and sleep
With soft embrace has seized my weary sheep:
I only, with the prowling wolf, constrained
All night to wake; with hunger he is pained,
And I, in love: his hunger he may tame,
But who in love can stop the growing flame?
Words from Phillips's Pastorals.
Horsley's 4th Collection, (Lonsdale).
ELEGY, for 3 Voices.-T. LINLEY of Bath.
AH! what avails the sprightly morn of life,
Though blooming health adorn its brightening beam,
Though blushing honours crown the youthful brow,
And golden riches paint the transient dream?
These may amuse, and anxious thoughts employ,
But love alone can kindle into joy;
Blest be that hour, that happy hour,
When first I owned Emira's power!
Then gloomy thoughts and pining care
Forsook my breast, and love reigned there.
Where yonder lime-trees fan the air,
I saw, I loved the charming fair;
In tumults wild my soul was tost,
And every wish of freedom lost.
Ah! how shall I deserve thy charms,
How win thee to my longing arms?
Let other swains to fame aspire,
Thy love is all that I require.
Ye nymphs, your freshest roses bring,
Crown her with all the pride of spring;
Let pleasure every hour employ,
And her delight be Damon's joy.
While bees with murmurs fill the plain,
And sweets from every flower drain,-
While, stretch'd beneath the hillocks steep,
The shelter'd herds in safety sleep-
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