Hark! the tabor's lively beat;

Hark! the flutes, in numbers sweet,

Fill the night

With delight,

At the masquerade.

Beneath this mask, what tender woes
We softly hear reveal'd,—
Secure, that, while the bosom glows,
Our blushes lie conceal'd!

Let grave ones warn us as they may,
Of ev'ry harmless joy afraid;
While we're young and we're gay,
Let us frolic and play,

At the masquerade.

PEARCE.

THE ROSARY.

PRESTON, LONDON.

Sung by Mrs Martyr.

THOUGH oft we meet severe distress

In vent'ring out to sea,
The perils of the storm seem less,
As we to Heav'n our vows address,
And sing the cheering Rosary.

Our kids, that rove the mountain wide,

And bound in harmless glee,

I seek each day at even-tide;

SHIELD

And, while their course I homeward guide,
I sing the cheering Rosary.

And in the deeper shades of night,
While thro' the woods I flee,

Where gloom and silence yield affright,
To make my beating heart sit light,
I sing the cheering Rosary.

COLEMAN.

THE POOR LITTLE GIPSEY.

-PRESTON, LONDON.

Sung by Mrs Mountain.

A POOR little gipsey, I wander forlorn;
My fortune was told long before I was born;
So fortunes I tell, as forsaken I stray,

ARNOLD.

And, in search of my love, I am lost in my way.
Spare a halfpenny, spare a halfpenny,

Spare a poor little gypsey a halfpenny!

I fear, from this line, you have been a sad man,
And to harm us poor girls have form'd many a plan;
But beware, lest repentance too late cause you pain,
And attend to the lesson I give in my strain.

Spare a halfpenny, &c.

Thro' woods and thro' wilds oft as weary I roam, Long absent from parents, from friends, and from

home,

Tho' sad is my heart, and tho' sore are my feet,
Yet I sing on my way, thus, to all that I meet-
Spare a halfpenny, &c.

COBB.

FANCY'S DREAM.

-DALE, LONDON.

Sung by Mrs Crouch.

AS wrapt in sleep I lay,
Fancy assum'd her sway.

A voice, which spoke despair,
Cry'd, "Mourn thy lover banish'd;
"Cold! cold! beneath the main

"Lies he, in battle slain;

STORACE.

“Mourn, mourn, thou wretched fair,

"All hope from thee is vanish'd."

Upon the rock I stood;

Forth from the foaming flood

Arose the lovely form

Of him who now is banish'd;
Loose flow'd his auburn hair,
Gored was his bosom bare;

Sinking amid the storm,

He sigh'd" adieu," and vanish'd.

DIBDIN.

WAS I A SHEPHERD'S MAID.

-PRESTON, LONDON.

Sung by Mrs Mountain.

WAS I a shepherd's maid, to keep
On yonder plains a flock of sheep,

Well pleas'd, I'd watch the live-long day,
My ewes at feed, my lambs at play:

DIRDIN.

Or, would some bird that pity brings,
But for a moment lend its wings,

My parents they might rave and scold,
My guardian strive my will to hold;
Their words are harsh, his walls are high,
But, spite of all, away I'd fly.

COBB.

WHITHER, MY LOVE, ETC.

-DALE, LONDON..

Sung by Madame Storace.

STORACE.

WHITHER, my love, ah! whither art thou gone?
Let not thy absence cloud this happy dawn.
Say-by thy heart, can falsehood e'er be known?
Ah! no, no; I judge it by my own.

The heart he gave with so much care,
Which treasur'd in my breast I wear,
Still for its master beats alone;
I'm sure the selfish thing's his own.

COBB.

CAN I CEASE TO LOVE HER?

-DALE, LONDON..

Sung by Mrs Bland.

IN childhood's careless, happy day,

When Nature speaks, unspoil'd by art,

Affection mark'd our infant play,
And fix'd its root in either heart:

Bb

STORACE.

Its growth would every hour discover;
Say, then, ah! can I cease to love her?

Oppress'd by sickness, languid, weak,
Attentions kind did she bestow,
And bade, upon my pallid cheek,
Reviving health and joy to glow.

New kindness would each hour discover;
Say, then, ah! can I cease to love her?

COBB.

THE SOLDIER'S DAUGHTER.

GOULDING, LONDON.

Sung by Miss De Camp.

A SOLDIER to his own fire-side
With laurels was retiring;
An only daughter was his pride,
His every hope inspiring.

In her young mind the virtues shone;
Th' admiring world approv'd her;
She seem'd to live for him alone,
And he as his own life lov'd her.

But oft within the fairest flow'r

The canker-worm is working;
Ingratitude (ah! fatal hour)
In her false heart was lurking.
The spoiler came-he op'd the door,
He from her home remov'd her;
She of her father thought no more,
Who as his own life lov'd her...

MAZZINGHI.