Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Charms of melody, or, Siren medley

THE CHARMS OF MELODY.
Smalilou.
THERE was an Iridi lad.
Who lov'd a cloifter'd nun ;
And it made him very fad,
For what was to be done ;
He thought it war. a big fhame, a mod confounded fin,
That (he could not get out at all, oi he could not get' in ;
Vet he went ev'ry day, he could do nothing more ;
Yet he wenf ev'ry day unto the convent door,
And he fung Iweetly Smalilou, Smalilou, Smalilou,
And he fung fweetly Smalilou, Gramachree and Paddy Whack.
To catch a glimpTe of her,
He play'd a thoul'and tricks ;
The bolts he try'd to ftir.
And tlie wall he gave fome kicks;
He (lamp'd, and rav'd, and figh'dj and pray'd, and many iimes
he fwore.
The Devil burn the iron boto, the Devil take th« door.
Yet he went ev'ry day, and he made it a rule ;
Yet he went ev'ry day, and look'd fo like a fool,
'Tlio' he fung fweetly Smalilou, &c.
One morn fhe ?eft her bed,
Bccaufe fhe could not Heep,
And to the window fped.
To take a llKle peep ;
And what did fhe do then > I am fure you'll think it right ;
She bade the honeft lad good day, fhe bade the nuns good nightj
Tenderly fhe liflen'd to all he had to fay.
Then jump'd iato his arms, and fo they ran away.
And they fung fweetly Smalilou, &c.
Henry's Cottage Maid.
AH ! where can fly my foul's true iove ?
Sad I wander this lone grove ;
Sighs and tears for him I fhed,
Henry is from Laura fled :
Thy love to me thou didft impart.
Thy love loon wju my virgin heart;
}3ut dcareft Henry, thoa'fl bctray'd
Thy love with thy dear Cottage Maid.
Thro' the vale my grief appears,
Sighing i'ad with pearly tears ;
Oft thy image is my theme.
As 1 wander "on the green ;
See, from my cheeks, the. colour flief.
And Love's fond hope within me dies;
For ah ! dear Henry, thou'lf betray'd
Thy love with thy dear Cottage Maid.
Hufli, ev'ry Breeze.
HUSH, ev'ry breeze, let nothing move.
My Delia iings, and fmgs of love;
Around the winning Graces wait,
And calm contentment guards the feat.
In the fweet fhade, my'Delia, (lay,
You'll fcorch thofe charms, more fweet than M4y;
The Sun now rages in his noon,
'Tis pity fure to part fo foon.
O hear me, Delia, hear me now.
Incline propitious to my vow ;
So may thy charms no changes prove,
But bloom for ever like my love.
Young I am, &;c.
YOUNG I am, and fore afraid :
Wou'd you hurt a harmlefs maid ?
{ ,ead an innocent aftray ?
Tempt me not, kind fir, I pray.
. Men too often we believe ;
And (liou'd you my faith deceive.
Ruin tirii, and then f'orl'ake.
Sure rtiy tender heart wou'd. break.
The way-worn Traveller.
FAINT and warily the way-worn traveller
Plods uncheerily, afraid to (Vcp;
Wand'ring drearily, the fad unravellcr
Of the mazes tow'rd the mountain top.
Doubting and fearing, while his courfe he is fteering-
Cottages appearing, as he is nigh to drop ;
■£)h I how bri'fkly, then, the way-worn trii\e!ler
Clinibsithe mazes tow'rd the mountain top.
Tho' fo melancholy the day ha? pafl by,'
'Twould be a folly to think of it more ;
Now, blitlte and jollv, he the can holds fall by.
As he is fitting by the goat-herd's door.
Eating and (juaffing, at paft labours laughing —
Better far by halt in fpirits than befoi'e;
Oil I 'how merry, then, the way-worn traveller
Seems, while fitting at the goat-herd's door.
H^
llov'd when I lik'd.
row happy am 1,
The fair lex can defy.
And can ev'ry day fay, my heart is my own,
For I never !aw yet.
That beauty or wrt.
But I lov'd if I pleas'i, or could let it alone.
I thought that my flame
Wou'd aill be the fame
For beautiful Celia, while Celia was true;
But Love v/as fo blind
When Celia was kind,
I chang'd her for Mopfy, for Mopfy was new.
The Bud of the Rofe.
HER mouth, with a fmile, devoid of all guile.
Half open to view,is the bud of the rofe.
Is the bud of the role, in the morning that blows,
Impearl'd with the ^ew, impearl'd with the dew ;
Is the bud of the role, impearl'd with the- dew.
More fragrant her breath, than the flower-fcented heath.
Than the Hower-fcenled heath, at the dawning of day ;
The hawthorn in bloom, the lily's perfume,
The lily's perfume, or the bloffoms of May.
Her mouth with a fmile, ©'f.
Rofina^
Youth's the Seafon made for Joy.
YOUTH'S the feafon made for joys,
Love is then our duty,
She alone wiio that employs.
Well deferves her beauty.
Let'? be gay.
While we may,
Beauty's a flow 'r defpis'd in decay.
Youth's the feafon, &c.
Let us drink and fport to-day,
Our's is not to-morrow ;
Love with youth flies fwiftaway,
Agejs nought but forrow,;
Dance and fmg.
Time's on the wing
Life never knows a return of fpring.
Beggar^s Opera,
Let us drink. Sec
X«w in a Filiate,
Jolly Mortals, fill your Glaffes.
JOLLY mortals, fill your glafles.
Noble deeds are done by wine ;
Scorn the nymph and all her graces.
Who'd for love or beauty pine ?
Look within the bowl that's flowing.
And a thoufand charms you'll find,
More than in- Phillls when juft going
In the moment to be kind,
Alexander hated thinking.
Drank about at council board :
He fubdu'd the world by drinking
More than by his conq'ring fword.