ANON.

Madly wounding,
Groans resounding,
Angel-pinion'd, o'er her lover,
With protecting wing, she'll hover,-
Valour's genius, Mem'ry's pleasure,
Guardian of Life's sacred treasure.
What can check the soldier's course,
Who, where War delights to rove,
Strikes with more than mortal force,
Urg'd by Fame, impell'd by Love?

ONLY TELL HER THAT I LOVE!

J. BELL, LONDON.

A favourite Song.

ONLY tell her that I love!

Leave the rest to her and Fate:

Some kind planet from above,

Only tell her that I love!

Why, oh! why should I despair?
Mercy's painted in her eye!
If she once vouchsafe to hear,
Welcome, Hope, and farewell, Fear!
Ye zephyrs, on your balmy gale,
Bear to my fair the tender tale;
And, whisp’ring softly from above,
Only tell her that I love!

CORRI

ANON.

THE LOVER'S VISION.

J. BELL, LONDON.

A favourite Song.

AS I wander'd along the sea-shore,
In a grave and contemplative mood,
I mus'd on the maid I adore,

Till before me I fancy'd she stood !
She smil'd, and I thought she express'd,
With a voice irresistibly sweet,

BRAHAM.

That no longer she'd torture my breast,
But thenceforward my passion would meet..

With a heart quite o'erflowing with love,
I in extasy sought to embrace;
But, alas! she was flown like a dove,
And she left not to vision a trace!
Cruel Fancy, why couldst thou impose?
Why tell me that Mary was kind?
Like the sun, which brings forward the rose,
And then leaves it to die by the wind!

TARRY AWHILE WITH ME.

BY A LADY. BLAND AND CO. LONDON.

Sung by Miss Howells, at the Nobility's Concerts.

"TARRY awhile with me, my love;

"O tarry awhile with me.

"O'er hills and dales,

"Thro' woods and vales,

Hh

HOOK,

"Why wander away from me, my love?

"O tarry awhile with me."

Thus sung a young shepherd, by love sore oppress'd, When the maid of his heart he fondly address'd. "The gayer delights you may fondly pursue, "But you'll find no such pleasures, no lover so true: “Then tarry awhile with me, my love; "O tarry awhile with me."

Thus again and again he repeated the lays, While the lasses around all join'd in his praise: By her soft, timid glances, embolden'd he grew; She consented to love, now she found he was true. "Then tarry awhile with me, my love; "O tarry awhile with me.”

TELL ME, WHERE IS FANCY BRED?

SHAKESPEARE. HIME, LIVERPOOL.

Sung at the Public Concerts.

TELL me, where is Fancy bred—
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
Reply, reply, reply, reply.
It is engender'd in the eye;
By gazing fed; and Fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies!
Let us all ring Fancy's knell :
I'll begin it-ding dong bell.

STEVENSON,

CHERRY.

FAREWELL THOSE HOPES!

-CORRI, LONDON.

Sung by Mrs Mountain.

CORRI

FAREWELL those hopes that, to my ardent soul,
The fairy scenes of promis'd rapture tell!

Farewell those joys that o'er my fancy roll!
And all the transports of this life, farewell!
Farewell!-farewell!

Farewell the regal glories of a crown!

The fame acquir'd, which distant time should tell! Farewell the blooming laurels of renown!

And all that sweetens love and life, farewell!

Farewell!-farewell!

CHERRY.

DEEP IN MY BREAST, ETC.

-CORRI, LONDON.

Sung by Mrs Mountain.

CORRI.

DEEP in my breast the rosy tyrant dwells,
Piercing, with cruel aim, each poison'd dart;
And if my eye the love-lorn torment tells,
It speaks the secret anguish of my heart.

Rest, rest, silly flutt❜rer, rest,

Nor let thy pain my love betray:

Hope shall hush thee in this breast,

And Time shall chase each sigh away.

ANON.

THE PARTING LOVER.

BELL, LOND.

A favourite Song.

FROM thee, Eliza, I must go,
And from my native shore;
The cruel fates between us throw
A boundless ocean's roar !
But boundless oceans roaring wide
Between my love and me,
They never, never, can divide
My heart, my soul, from thee!

Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear,
The maid that I adore;
A boding voice is in my ear,
We part to meet no more!
But the last throb that leaves my heart,
While Death stands victor by,-

That throb, Eliza, is thy part,

And thine that latest sigh!

-HOOK.

RANNIE..

MY DAYS OF DELIGHT, ETC.

PRESTON, LOND.

A favourite Song.

-ROSE

ON Dee's flow'ry margin, the elm-tree and pine
Still wave the white cottage above,

Where lately the angel of beauty divine

Found pleasure, contentment, and love!