What tho' I trace each herb and flow'r,

That drinks the morning dew,

Did I not own JEHOVAH'S pow'r,

How vain were all I knew!

GLEE. Masters TIDMAN and CARTER, and

Mr. LIDDELL.

Ye shepherds, tell me, have you seen

My Flora pass this way?

In shape and feature beauty's queen,

In pastoral array.

Mazzinghi.

A wreath around her head she wore,
Carnation, lilly, rose;

And in her hand a crook she bore,

And sweets her breath compose.

The beauteous wreath, that decks her head,
Forms her description true;

Hands lilly white, lips crimson red,
And cheeks of rosy hue.

CONCERTO.

SONG. Master TIDMAN.

O sing, sweet bird, from that lov'd strain

A transient bliss I feel,

To lull that sorrow which in vain

I labour to conceal.

From Sylvia torn, whose vocal pow'r
Made earth a heav'n to me,
To cheer each sad and tedious hour,
I fondly taught it thee.

That if misfortune damp my love,

Or yield me up to care,

Thy lay may rouse my soul, and prove
A rescue from despair.

SIMPHONY.

Avison.

Mazzinghi.

Pleyel.

ACT II.

CONCERTO, Organ, 4th. Mr. VICARY.

Handel.

SONG. Miss HAINES.

On that lone bank where Lubin died

Fair Rosalie, a wretched maid,

Sat weeping o'er the cruel tide,

Faithful to her Lubin's shade.

Oh! may some kind, some gentle wave
Waft him to this mournful shore;
These tender hands should make his grave,
And deck his corpse with flowers o'er.

I'd ever watch his mould'ring clay,
And pray for his eternal rest;
When time his form had worn away,

His dust I'd place within my breast.
While thus she mourn'd her Lubin lost,
And echo to her grief reply'd,

Lo! at her feet his corpse was tost,

She shriek'd, she clasp'd him, sigh'd, and died!

TRIO.

1

Boccherini.

GLEE. Masters TIDMAN and CARTER, and

Mr. LIDDELL.

Callcott.

Blow, warder, blow thy sounding horn,

And thy banner wave on high,

For the Christians have fought in the holy land,

And have won the victory.

Loud, loud the warder blew his horn,

And his banner wav'd on high:

Let the mass be sung, and the bells be rung,
And the feast eat merrily.

The warder look'd froin the tow'r on high,

As far as he could see;

I see a bold knight, and by his red cross,
He comes from the east country.
Then loud the warder blew his horn,
And call'd till he was hoarse,

I see a bold knight, and on his shield bright
He beareth a flaming cross.

Then down the lord of the castle came,

The red-cross knight to meet,

And when the red-cross knight he espied

Right loving he did him greet:

Thou'rt welcome here, dear red-cross knight,

For thy fame's well known to me,

And the mass shall be sung, and the bells shall be
And we'll feast right merrily.

rung,