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A FAMOUS MAN WAS ROBIN HOOD. W. WORDSWORTH.] [Music by SIR H. R. BISHOP.

A FAMOUS man was Robin Hood,
The English ballad-singer's joy:
But Scotland has a chief as good,

She has, she has her bold Rob Roy.

A dauntless heart Macgregor shows,

And wondrous length and strength of arm;
He long had quell'd his highland foes,
And kept, and kept his friends from harm.

This daring mood protects him still,
For this the robber's simple plan,

That they should take who have the will,
And they, and they should keep who can.

And while Rob Roy is free to rove,
In summer's heat and winter's snow,
The eagle he is lord above,

And Rob, and Rob is lord below.

A famous man, &c.

WHEN EVENING'S TWILIGHT.

ANONYMOUS.]

FOUR PART SONG.

[Music by J. L. HATTON.

WHEN evening's twilight gathers round,

When ev'ry flower is hush'd to rest,
When autumn's leaves breathe not a sound,
And ev'ry bird flies to its nest;

When dewdrops kiss the blushing rose,
When stars are glitt'ring from above,
When Nature's self seeks sweet repose,
Then I think of thee, my love,
I think of thee, my love,
Then, O! then, I think of thee.

HARK TO MY LUTE.

SAMUEL LOVER.]

HARK to my lute sweetly ringing!

List, love, to me;

Dearest, thy lover is singing-
Singing to thee ;-

Yet, to the balcony stealing,

[Music by LOVER.

No mantled beauty I see,

No casement is dimly revealing

Thy fair form to me.

Perchance thou art sleeping-my strain, love,
Meets not thine ear,

And visions, in shadowy train, love,
Haply appear.

Wake thee! and hearken to me, love,
If fancy should whisper of ill;

But if thy dream be of me, love,
Oh! slumber still.

Their bright watch in heaven, now keeping,
Beams ev'ry star;

But the sweet eye that is sleeping
Brighter is far :-

For when the pale dawn advances

Tremulous star fires decay,

While e'en at noon-tide thy glance is
Bright as the day.

PETER WHITE.

CATCH.

[Music by DR. CHARLES BURNEY.]
PETER White, who never goes right,
Would you know the reason why?
He follows his nose wherever he goes,
And that stands all awry.

THE TRIPLE SPELL.

E. D. MURPHY.]

[Music by J. BLEWITT. SHE smiles, and from her beauteous face Irradiating beam'd a smile,

So purely bright, so heav'nly fair,
One might have deem'd an angel there;
She smiled, and it is strange to tell,
Her smile did make me love her well.

She spoke, and like the melody
Of zephyr notes on stream and tree,
Her accent fell, and falling brought
The sybil love of noblest thought;
And if her smile my heart could fetter,
Her mind did make me love her better.

She wept, and those fond eyes of blue
Seem'd violets bath'd in morning dew,
Awaiting but one loving ray

To sip their brimming tears away;
She wept, and let it be confess'd

Her tears did make me love her best.

THE CASTLED CRAG OF DRACHEN

FELS.

[LORD BYRON.]

THE castled crag of Drachenfels

Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,
Whose breast of waters broadly swells
Between the banks which bear the vine;
And hills, all rich with blossom'd trees;
And fields, which promise corn and wine;
And scattered cities crowning these,

Whose far wide walls along them shine;
Have strewed a scene, which I should see
With double joy, wert thou with me.

And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes,
And hards, which offer early flowers,
Walk smiling o'er this paradise ;

Above, the frequent feudal towers,
Through green leaves lift their walls of grey;
And many a rock, which steeply lowers,
And noble arch in proud decay,

Look o'er this vale of vintage bowers; But one thing wants these banks of Rhine,Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine.

I send thee lilies given to me;

Though long before thy hand they touch,
I know that they must withered be;
But yet reject them not as such,
For I have cherished them as dear,
Because they yet may meet thine eye,
And guide thy soul to mine even here,
When thou beholdest them drooping nigh,
And knowest them gathered by the Rhine,
And offered from my heart to thine.

The river nobly foams and flows,

The charm of this enchanted ground,
And all its thousand turns disclose

Some fresher beauty varying round;
The haughtiest breast, its wish might bound,
Through life to dwell delighted here;
Nor could on earth a spot be found,
To nature and to me so dear,

Could thy dear eyes in following mine,
Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine.

LOVE SOUNDS THE ALARM.

LOVE sounds the alarm and fear is a flying,
When beauty's the prize what mortal fears dying?
In defence of my treasure I'll bleed at each vein,
Without her no pleasure, for life is a pain.

THE OLD KIRK-YARD.

[T. H. BAYLY.]

Он, come, come with me to the old kirk-yard,
I well know the path thro' the soft green sward;
Friends slumber there we were wont to regard,
We'll trace out their names in the old kirk-yard.
Oh, mourn not for them, their grief is o'er,
Oh, weep not for them, they weep no more,
For deep is their sleep, tho' cold and hard
Their pillow may be in the old kirk-yard.

I know it is vain when friends depart,
To breathe kind words to a broken heart;
I know that the joy of life seems marr'd,
When we follow them home to the old kirk-yard.
But were I at rest beneath yon tree,

Why shouldst thou weep, dear love, for me?
I'm wayworn and sad, ah! why then retard
The rest that I seek in the old kirk-yard?

O PEACEFUL LAKE.

THOMAS BLAKE.]
[Music by BIANCHI TAYLOR.
O PEACEFUL lake! upon thy silent shore,
Where waves nor dash, nor angry billows roar,
Calm would I dwell, secure from mortal strife,
And wile away the ev'ning hour of life.

And there, while gazing on thy waters clear,
I'd treasure up the scenes to mem'ry dear;
Scenes which the sportive pen of fancy drew,
'Mid pleasures that in youth's bright time I knew.

Oh! thus contented with my peaceful home,
No longer through the distant world I'd roam,
But, with a happy heart and grateful breast.
By thy still waters would for ever rest.

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