With deep regret I bid farewell
To early bliss and Barra Vale.

O Barra Vale, when torn away
From ev'ry scene to pleasure dear,
And doom'd in distant climes to stray,
Chaste Fancy still will linger here.
The lovely scenes of youth to view,
The hope of vanish'd joys renew,
On ev'ry tender thought to dwell
Of early bliss and Barra Vale.

PERCY.

FAIREST OF THE FAIR.

-LONGMAN AND CO. LONDON. CARTER,

Sung at the Public Concerts.

O NANCY, wilt thou go with me,
Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town?
Can silent glens have charms for thee,
The lowly cot, and russet gown?
No longer drest in silken sheen,

No longer deck'd with jewels rare,
Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene,
Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

O Nancy, when thou'rt far away,
Wilt thou not cast a wish behind?
Say, canst thou face each parching ray,
Nor shrink before the wintry wind?
O can that soft and gentle mien
Extremes of hardships learn to bear,-

Nor, sad, regret each courtly scene,
Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

O Nancy, canst thou love so true,
Through perils keen with me to go,—
Or, when thy swain mishap shall rue,
To share with him the pangs of woe?
Say, should disease or pain befal,

Wilt thou assume the nurse's care,-
Nor, wistful, those gay scenes recal,
Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

And when at last thy love shall die,

Wilt thou receive his parting breath?
Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh,

And cheer with smiles the bed of death?
And wilt thou, o'er his breathless clay,
Strew flow'rs, and drop the tender tear,―
Nor then regret the scenes so gay,
Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

ANON.

MYRTILLA.

DALE, LONDON.

Sung by Mrs Jordan.

YE cheerful virgins, have ye seen

My fair Myrtilla pass the green,

To rose or jasmin bower?

HOWARD.

Where does she seek the woodbine shade?

For, sure, ye know the blooming maid,

Sweet as the May-born flow'r.

Her cheeks are like the maiden rose,
Join'd with the lily, as it grows,—
Where each in sweetness vie :
Like dew-drops glitt'ring in the morn,
When Phoebus gilds the flow'ring thorn,
Health sparkles in her eye.

Her

song is like the linnet's lay,

That warbles cheerful on the spray,
To hail the vernal beam;
Her heart is blither than her song;
Her passions gently move along,
Like the smooth gliding stream.

THE POOR SHIPWRECK'D BOY!

NICHOLLS.

-CLEMENTI, LONDON. WHITAKER.

Sung at the Public Concerts.

'MIDST lightning swift flashing, while thunder burst loud,

The sea toss'd the vessel's top-mast to the cloud;
Descending, she struck on a sharp sunken rock,
And parted, 'midst horrible shrieks, at the shock.
No pow'r was at hand from the tempest to save,
So the whole were entomb'd in a wat❜ry grave;
Save one, on a plank, Fate forbore to destroy,
In despair reach'd the shore, a poor shipwreck'd
boy!

Wet, trembling and fainting, he rose from the strand,
Borne up by a stake Chance had left in his hand :

After wringing his hands, he survey'd the new scene; For the storm was gone by, and the heavens serene. T'ward the hills now he looks, sees a cottage to

please,

For the white smoke of Plenty curl'd thro' the thick. trees;

Hope brighten'd his face with the sun-beams of Joy, And away for the cot bent the poor shipwreck'd boy!

The dame saw him coming, and flew to the latch; Her daughters and sons plac'd themselves at the

hatch:

The lad 'gan his tale with a heart-rending sigh,
And points to the wreck, with a tear in each eye;
For fond Recollection disturb'd his kind breast,
And he felt for his shipmates the pang unexpress'd:
Attention with pity the rustics employ,

And this was the song of the poor shipwreck❜& boy!

"No friend to protect me, no parent to guide; "My parents and friends are all lost in the tide ; "Quite cold are their lips in yon pitiless brine, "And the kiss of Affection no more shall be mine!" Grief paus'd, and bright tears from the cottagers

flow;

E'en Tray hung his tail at the sonnet of Woe;

The kind-hearted red-breast, unheeding annoy, Perch'd near the sad song of the poor shipwreck'd

boy!

"Scarce a thing have I sav'd from the terrible wreck! "These trowsers all dripping, this shirt on my back,

"Are all I can boast of! In pity, then, spare "And yield me that comfort you happily share." Full swift as the bright springs from a precipice flow, The hearts of the throng felt Humanity's glow, Conducted to comforts productive of joy,

And Despair fled the breast of the poor shipwreck'd boy!

OXFORDSHIRE NANCY BEWITCHED.

GARRICK.

BLAND, LONDON.

Sung by Mr Bowden.

SHIELD.

THO' I'm slim, and am young, and was lively and fair,

Could sing a sweet song, and in others kill care;
Yet I'm surely bewitch'd, for I can't drive away
What makes me so restless by night and by day.
In vain I perplex my poor fancy
To find out the grief;

But, alas! no relief.

Heigho! what can be the matter with Nancy?

With my head on my pillow, I seek for repose,
Which comes to the wretched, and softens their woes;
But, sleepless, tho' blameless, I sigh thro' the night,-
And the day can't relieve me, tho' ever so bright.
In vain I perplex, &c.

So evil a spirit that haunts a poor maid,

By the grave sons of physic can never be laid;