"Oh! shameful! and where were they laid!" "Well, my son, what has happen'd afresh ?" "Why, you know, sir, we all should repent, When we're carnal, and giv'n to the flesh;Now, my neighbour's sweet daughter"-" Oh! oh! This sweet daughter !-Well ?"-"when I would see, Unknown to her father I go ; For I love her-and, sir, she loves me." "And pray, is she handsome?"-"Oh, dear! She's an angel!-has plenty of pelf!" "I charge you, no more interfere ;" For, thought he,—" I'll have her to myself." Till to proper repentance you're brought HOW SWEET IN THE WOODLANDS. DUET. [Music by HARRINGTON.] How sweet in the woodlands, with fleet hound and horn, To awaken shrill echo, and taste the fresh morn; But hard is the chance my fond heart must pursue, For Daphne, fair Daphne, is lost to my view. Assist me, chaste Dian, the nymph to regain, THE BELLS OF ST. MICHAEL'S [Music by KNYVETT.] MERRILY, merrily, rang the bells, Richard Penlake was a cheerful man, But he led a sad life with Rebecca his wife, Richard Penlake a scolding would take, Then Richard Penlake a crabstick would take, I'D MOURN THE HOPES THAT LEAVE T. MOORE.] ME. [Air-"The rose tree." I'D mourn the hopes that leave me, I'd weep when friends deceive me, But while I've thee before me, With heart so warm, and eyes so bright, No clouds can linger o'er me, That smile turns them all to light. 'Tis not in fate to harm me, While fate leaves thy love to me; Unless joy be shar'd with thee. And though the hope be gone, love, And pure smiles from thee at home. Thus when the lamp that lighted And looks around in fear and doubt. But soon the prospect clearing, By cloudless star-light on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering FORETOP MORALITY. CHARLES DIBDIN.] [Music by C. DIBDIN. Two real tars, whom duty called I say, Will Hatchway, cried Tom Tow, As through the voyage of life you go, K Cried Will, You lubber, don't you know? To steer where honour points the prow, These anchors get but in your power, The bower, the sheet, and the best bower, Why then you're out, and there's an end, Who swabs his bows at other's woe, Let storms of life upon me press, Why, damme, what's my own distress? Ay, ay, if bound with a fresh gale WE SHALL HAVE OUR MOONLIGHT YET. [SAMUEL LOVER.] THO' days are gone when you and I We never more shall see again; Yet in those eyes, oft dimm'd with tears, To make unfelt the blight of years, Tho' days are gone when you and I, &o. Our morn is gone, the day is past, But light still gilds the mountain's brow; The night assumes her silver crown, Tho' days are gone when you and I, &c. OH, LET ME ONLY BREATHE THE AIR. [T. MOOKE.] OH! let me only breathe the air, The blessed air that's breathed by thee! There drink my tears while yet they fall, Nay, turn not from me that dear face, Think'st thou that she whose only light In this dim world from thee hath shone That I can live and let thee go Who art my life itself? No-no! |