Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub
[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

She fings me a fong, and I echo each strain,
Again I cry, Jenny! fweet Jenny, again!
I kifs her foft lips, as if there I could grow,
And fear I'm in love, though I answer no, no.
IV.

She tells me her faults, as he fits on my knee,
I chide her, and fwear fhe's an angel to me :
My shoulder she taps, and still bids me think so;
Who knows but she loves, though he tells me no,
no?

V.

Yet fuch is my temper, fo dull am I grown,

I ask not Her heart, but would conquer my own: Her bofom's foft peace fhall I feek to o'erthrow, And wish to perfuade, while I answer no, no?

VI.

From beauty, and wit, and good-humour, ah! why

Should prudence advife, and compel me to fly? Thy bounties, O Fortune! make hafte to bestow, And let me deferve her, or ftill I fay no.

SONG

THE TENTH.

I.

OW bleft has my time been, what days have I

Η How known,

Since wedlock's foft bondage made Jeffe my own! So joyful my heart is, fo eafy my chain,

That freedom is tastelefs, and roving a pain.

II.

Through walks, grown with woodbines, as often

[blocks in formation]
[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

All wet with the night's chilling dew,
Her bofom embrac'd the cold ground,~
While ftormy winds over her blew,

And night-ravens croak'd all around.

III.

How long, my lov'd Collin, fhe' cry'd,

How long must thy Lucy complain?
How long shall the grave my love hide?
How long ere it join us again?
For thee thy fond fhepherdefs liv'd,

With thee o'er the world would she fly, For thee has she forrow'd and griev'd,`·

For thee would fhe lie down and die.
IV.

Alas! what avails it how dear

Thy Lucy was once to her swain!' Her face like the lily so fair,

And eyes that gave light to the plain !The fhepherd that lov'd her is gone,

That face and those eyes charm no more; And Lucy forgot and alone,

To death fhall her Collin deplore.
V.

While thus fhe lay funk in despair,

And mourn'd to the echoes around,

Inflam'd all at once grew the air,

And thunder fhook dreadful the ground:

I hear the kind call, and obey,

Oh, Collin receive me, she cry'd!
Then breathing a groan o'er his clay,
She hung on his tomb-stone and dy’d.

[blocks in formation]

SONG THE THIRTEENTH

W

[merged small][ocr errors]

HEN Damon languish'd at my feet;
And I believ'd him true,

The moments of delight how sweet!
But ah! how swift they flew !
The funny hill, the flow'ry vale!
The garden and the grove,
Have echo'd to his ardent tale,
And vows of endless love.

II.
The conqueft gain'd, he left his prize
He left her to complain;

To talk of joy with weeping eyes,

And measure time by pain.

But heaven will take the mourner's part,
In pity to despair;

And the last figh that rends the heart,
Shall waft the spirit there.

[blocks in formation]

In hallow'd walks, and awful cells,
Secluded from the light and vain,
The chafte-ey'd maid with virtue dwells,
And folitude, and filence reign.

The wanton's voice is heard not here,

To heav'n the facred pile belongs; -Each wall returns the whisper'd pray'r, And echoes but to holy fongs.

RECITATIVE. Alas, that pamper'd monks should dare Intrude where fainted veftals are! Ah, Francis! Francis! well I weet Thofe holy looks all are deceit. With fhaine the mufe prolongs her tale, The Priest was young, the Nun was frail, Devotion faulter'd on her tongue, Love tun'd her voice, and thus the fung. AIR.

Alas, how deluded was I,

To fancy delights as I did!

With maidens at midnight to figh,

And love, the sweet paffion, forbid !

F

[blocks in formation]

BE

A SERENATA:

SET TO MUSIC BY DR. BOYCE.

PART I

CHORUS.

EHOLD, Jerufalem, thy king,
Whose praises all the nations fing!
To Solomon the Lord has giv'n
All arts and wifdom under heav'n :
For him the tuneful virgin throng
Of Zion's daughter's fwell, the fong:
While young and old their voices raife,
And wake the echoes with his praise.

RECITATIVE.
SHE. From the mountains, lo! he comes,
Breathing from his lips perfumes;
While zephyrs on his garments play,
And fweets through all the air convey,
AIR.

Tell me, lovely fhepherd, where
Thou feed'ft at noon thy fleecy care?
Direct me to the fweet retreat,
That guards thee from the mid-day heat:
Left by the flocks I lonely ftray,
Without a guide, and lofe my way:
Where reft, at noon, thy bleating care,
Gentle fhepherd, tell me where?
AIR.

HE. Fairest of the virgin throng,
Doft thou feek thy fwain's abode ?

See yon fertile vale along

The new-worn path the flocks have trod : Pursue the prints their feet have made, And they fhall guide thee to the shade,

RECITATIVE.

SHE. As the rich apple, on whose boughs. Ripe fruit with streaky beauty glows, Excels the trees that fhade the grove, So fhines, among his fex, my love.

AIR.

Beneath his ample shade I lay,
Defended from the fultry day;
His cooling fruit my thirst affuag'd,

And quench'd the fires that in me rag'd;
Till fated with the luscious taste,

I rofe and bleft the sweet repast.

N,

RECITATIVE
HE. Who quits the lily's fleecy white,
To fix on meaner flow'rs the fight?
Or leaves the rose's stem untorn,
To crop the blossom from the thorn?
Unrival'd thus thy beauties are;
So fhines my love among the fair.
AIR.

Balmy sweetness, ever flowing,

From her dropping lips diftills; Flowers on her cheeks are blowing,

And her voice with music thrills. Zephyrs o'er the spices flying,

Wafting sweets from every tree, Sick'ning fenfe with odours cloying, Breathe not half so sweet as fhe.

RECITATIVE.
SHE. Let not my prince his flave defpife,
Or pass me with unheeding eyes,

Because the fun's difcolouring rays
Have chac'd the lily from my face.
My envious fifters saw my bloom,
And drove me from my mother's home;
Unshelter'd all the scorching day
They made me in their vineyard stay.
AIR.

Ah fimple me! my own, more dear,
My own, alas; was not my care:
Invading love the fences broke,
And tore the clusters from the stock.
With eager grafp the fruit destroy'd,
Nor refted, till the ravage cloy'd.

AIR.

HE. Fair and comely is my love, And fofter than the blue-ey'd dove ; Down her neck the wanton locks Bound like the kids on Gilead's rocks; Her teeth like flocks in beauty feem,

New fhorn, and dropping from the stream;
Her glowing lips by far outvie

The plaited threads of scarlet dye;
Whene'er the fpeaks the accents wound,
And mufic floats upon the found.

RECITATIVE.

SHE. Forbear, O charming fwain, forbear! Thy voice enchants my lift'ning ear; And while I gaze my bosom glows, My flutt'ring heart with love o'erflows. The fhades of night hang o'er my eyes, And every fenfe within me dies.

AIR.

O fill with cooling juice the bowl!
Affuage the fever in my foul!
With copious draughts my thirst remove,
And footh the heart that's fick of love.

PART II.

RECITATIVE.

Hr. The chearful spring begins to-day; Arife, my fair-one, come away!

RECITATIV E. SHE. Sweet mufic steals along the airHark!- -my beloved's voice I hear!

AIR.

Hz. Arife, my fair, and come away,
The chearful fpring begins to-day:
Bleak winter's gone with all his train
Of chilling frofts, and dropping rain,
Amidst the verdure of the mead
The primrose lifts her velvet head:
The warbling birds, the woods among,
Salute the season with a fong:
The cooing turtle in the grove
Renews his tender tale of love :

The vines their infant tendrils shoot:
The fig-tree bends with early fruit:
All welcome in the genial ray:
Arife, my fair, and come away!
CHORUS.

All welcome in the genial ray,
Arife, O fair-one, come away!
DUET.

Together let us range the fields,

Impearled with the morning dew; Or view the fruits the vineyard yields, Or the apple's cluft ring bough: There in close-embower'd fhades, Impervious to the noon-tide ray, By tinkling rills, on rofy beds,

We'll love the fultry hours away.

RECITATIVE.
HE. How lovely art thou to the fight,
For pleasure form'd, and sweet delight!
Tall as the palm-tree is thy shape,
Thy breasts are like the cluft'ring grape.
AIR.

Let me, love, thy bole ascending,
On the fwelling clusters feed:
With my grafp the vine-tree bending,
In my close embrace fhall bleed.
Stay me with delicious kiffes,

From thy honey-dropping mouth;
Sweeter than the fummer breezes
Blowing from the genial south.

RECITATIVE.
SHE. O that a fifter's fpecious name
Conceal'd from prying eyes my flame !
Uncenfur'd then I'd own my love,
And chafteft virgins should approve :
Then fearless to my mother's bed
My feeming brother would I lead:
Soft tranfports fhould the hours employ,
And the deceit should crown the joy.
AIR.

Soft! I adjure you, by the fawns
That bound across the flow'ry lawns,
Ye virgins, that ye lightly move,
Nor with your whispers wake my love!

RECITATIVE.

HE. My fair's a garden of delight, Enclos'd and hid from vulgar sight; Where ftreams from bubbling fountains stray, And rofes deck the verdant way.

AIR.

Softly arife, O fouthern breeze!
And kindly fan the blooming trees;
Upon my spicy garden blow,

That fweets from every part may flow.

CHORU S.

Ye fouthern breezes, gently blow, That fweets from every part may flow.

PART III.

AIR.

HE. Arife, my fair, the doors unfold, Receive me thivering with the cold.

RECITATIVE.

SHE. My heart amidst my flumbers wakes, And tells me my beloved speaks.

AIR.

HE. Arife, my fair, the doors unfold,
Receive me, fhivering with the cold:
The chill-drops hang upon my head,
And night's cold déws my cheeks o'erspread:
Receive me, dropping, to thy breast,
And lull me in thy arms to reft.

RECITATIVE.
SHE Obedient to thy voice I hie;
The willing doors wide open fly.
AIR.

Ah! whither, whither art thou gone?
Where is my lovely wand'rer flown?
Ye blooming virgins, as you rove,
If chance you meet my ftraying love,
I charge you tell him how I mourn,
And pant, and die for his return.

CHORUS OF VIRGINS.
Who is thy love, O charming maid!
That from thy arms fo late has ftray'd?
Say what diftinguish'd charms adorn,
And finish out his radiant form?

AIR.

SHE. On his face the vernal rofe, Blended with the lilly, glows; His locks are as the raven black, In ringlets waving down his back; His eyes with milder beauties beam, Than billing doves beside the stream; His youthful cheeks are beds of flow'rs, Enripen'd by refreshing show'rs; His lips are of the rofe's hue, Dropping with a fragrant dew; Tall as the cedar he appears, And as erect his form he bears. This, O ye virgins, is the fwain, Whofe abfence causes all my pain.

RECITATIVE.

HE. Sweet nymph. whom ruddier charms adorn,
Than open with the rofy morn;
Fair as the moon's unclouded light,
And as the fun in splendour bright;
Thy beauties dazzle from a-far,

Like glitt'ring arms that gild the war.
RECITATIVE.

SHE. O take me! stamp me on thy breast!
Deep let the image be imprest!

For love, like arm'd death, is strong,
Rudely he drags his flaves along :

If once to jealousy he turns,
With never-dying rage he burns.

F 2

DUET.

Thou foft invader of the foul!

O love, who fhall thy pow'r controul !
To quench thy fires whole rivers drain,
Thy burning heat shall still remain.
In vain we trace the globe to try,
If pow'rful gold thy joys can buy :
The treasures of the world will prove
Too poor a bribe to purchase love.
CHORU S.

In vain we trace the globe to try,
If pow'rful gold thy joys can buy:
The treasures of the world will prove
Too poor a bribe to purchase love.

IN

PR 0 L

G

U E

GIL

BL AS,.-.

SPOKEN BY MR. WOODWARD

[blocks in formation]

Damn him-or by my foul, he'll write a third.
The man wants money, I fuppofe-but mind ye
Tell him you've left your charity behind ye.
A pretty plea, his wants to our regard!
As if we Bloods had howels for a bard!
Befides, what men of fpirit, now-a-days,
Come to give fober judgments of new plays?
It argues fome good-nature to be quiet
Good-nature! Ay-but then we lose a riot.
The fcribbling fool may beg and make a fuss,
'Tis death to him-What then?-Tis fport to us..
Don't mind me tho'-for all my fun and jokes,
The bard may find us Bloods good-natur'd folks ;
Not crabbed critics-foes to rifing merit-

THE CHARACTER OF A CRITIC, WITH A Write but with fire-and we'll applaud with spirit

[blocks in formation]

Our author aims at no dishonest ends,

[ocr errors]

He knows no enemies, and boasts some friends;
He takes no methods down your throats to cram it;
So if you like it, fave it; if not- -damn it.

END. OF MOORE'S FOEMS.

« ПредишнаНапред »