The wild-bee there gallanting roves, Ah! faint of phrase is tongue to tell And there, when moon-beams frost the green, The youths and maids on light feet hie, And as the cakes and cup pass round, And waken all the sweets of sound. Ah! how with joy my heart would swell, THE TEAR THAT BEDEWS, ETC. MORRIS. -BLAND, LONDON. SHIELD. Sung by Mr Incledon. THO' Bacchus may boast of his care-killing bowl, And Folly in thought-drowning revels delight, Such worship, alas! hath no charms for the soul, When softer devotions the senses invite. To the arrow of Fate, or the canker of Care, But to Fancy, that feeds on the charms of the fair, What soul, that's possest of a charm so divine, Is a drop of more worth than all Bacchus's tun. The tender excess that enamours the heart, To few is imparted, to millions deny'd; 'Tis the brain of the victim that tempers the dart, And fools jest at that for which sages have dy'd. Each change and excess hath thro' life been my doom, Come then, rosy Venus, and spread o'er my sight Then deep will I drink of the nectar divine, Nor e'er, jolly god, from thy banquet remove, But each tube of my heart ever thirst for the wine That's mellow'd by Friendship, and sweeten'd by Love. Cc T. DIBDIN. FANNY. -DALE, LONDON. Sung by Mr Incledon. IN early youth, my Fanny's charms Might hermits warm with chaste desire. Our friends had fix'd the nuptial day; At length, in hopes of promis'd bliss, CAREY. SALLY IN OUR ALLEY. GOULDING, LONDON. Sung by Mr Incledon. OF all the girls that are so smart, And lives in our alley. DAVY. ANON, There's ne'er a lady in the land Her father he makes cabbage nets, To all who chuse to buy them: But sure such folks could ne'er beget So sweet a girl as Sally; She is the darling, &c. When she is by, I leave my work, My master comes, like any Turk, She is the darling, &c. Of all the days there's in the week, And that's the day that comes betwixt A Saturday and Monday. O then I'm drest all in my best, To walk abroad with Sally; She is the darling, &c. My master carries me to church,— Because I leave him in the lurch As soon as text is named: I leave the church in sermon time, When Christmas comes about again, And would it were a dozen pounds, I'd keep it for my Sally, For she's the darling, &c. My master and the neighbours all But when my seven long years are out, O then I'll wed, and then we'll bed, WILLIAMS. WHEN HENRY DIED. GOULDING, LONDON. Sung by Mrs Ashe. ONE fatal hour has chang'd my lot From happiness to woe! Hope's cherish'd visions left my cot, My tears began to flow, When Henry died. RAUZZINI. |