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

THE CHARMS OV MELODY.
Somehow my Spindle I miflaid.
SOMEHOW my fpindle I miflaid.
And loll it andci-neath the grals,
iCamon, advancing, bow'd his head,
And faid, " what leek you, pretty lafs ?"
fl A little love, but urg'd with care,
I Oft leads a hea rt, and leads, it far.
■ Twas pafllng by yon fpreading oak
1 That I my fpindle loll juft now ;
' Hij knife then, kindly, Damon took.
And from the tree he cut a bougli.
Thus did the youth his time employ,
While me he tenderly beheld ;
He talk'd of love, I leapM for joy.
For ah 1 my heart did fondly yield.
A little love, Gfc.
A little love, &f.
jP'>
The Meadows look cheerful.
THE meadows look chearful, the birds fweetly fing,
So gaily they carrol the praifes of fpring ;
Tho^ Nature rejoices, poor Norah fliall mourn,
Until her dear Patrick again (hall return.
Ye lafles of Dublin, ah, hide your gay charms,
N6r lure my dear Patrick, from Norah's fond arms;
Tho' fattins, and ribbons, and laces are fine.
They hide not a heart with fuch feelings as mine.
Poor Soldier,
How happy were my Days, &c.
HOW happy were my days till now '.
I ne'er did forrow feel ;
With joy 1 rofe to milk my cow,
Or turn my fpinning wheel.
My heart was lighter than a fly,
Like any bird I f;ing,
Till he pretended love, and I
Beliey'd his flatt'ring tongue.
O ! the fool ! the filly, filly fool,
Who trurts what man may fay !
I wifti I was a maid again,
And in my owu country.
Xrvc in a Filhge.
Care, thou Canker, &c.
CARE, thou canker of our joys,
Now thy tyrant reign is o'er.
Fill the myftic bowl, my boys,
Join in bacchanalian roar.
Seize the villain, plunge him in.
See the hated mifcreant di&s.
Mirth, and all thy train come in.
Shut out Sorrow's tears and fighs.
O'er the merry midnight bowls, j
Gods how happy fh;ill we be ! 1
Day was made for thinking fouls,
Kight, my boys, for you and me.
Bibo's Retreat.
WHEN Eibo thought fit from this world to retreat.
As full of Champaign as an egg's full of meat,
He wak'd in the boat, and to Charon he faid,
He v/ou'd be rov^'d back, for he v/as not yet dead,—
" Trim the boat, and fit quiet !" ftcrn Charon reply'd ;
" You may have forgot — you were drunk when you dy'd."
Lira, lirala.
LITTLE thinks the town's-man's wife,
WhiUl at home (he tarries,
What muft be the I'afs'.s life,
Who a I'oldier marries :
Now with weary marching fpent.
Dancing now before the tent,
Lira, lira, la, lira, lira, la.
With her jolly foldier.
In the camp at night fhe lies.
Wind and weather (corning.
Only griev'd her love murt rile.
And quit her in the morning :
But the doubtful (kirmifh dcae.
Blithe (he fings at let of I'un,
Should the captain of her dear,
Ufe his kind endeavour,
Whifp'ring nonfenfe in her ear.
Two fond hearts to (ever;
At his paffion (Tie will feoff,
Laughing thus fhe'll put him off.
• Lira, lira, la, Sff,
Lira, lira, la, &c.
I lock'd up all my Treafure.
ILOCK'D up all my treafure.
And journey'd many a mile;
And by my grief did mealure.
The pafling time the while.
My bus'nefs done and over,
I haft'ned back amain.
Like an expecting lover, ,
To view it once again.
But this delight was Rifled,
As it began to dawn —
I found the Ca(ket rifled.
And all my treafure gone.
The.^ahr.
And by my grief, Sec.
Llkean expeftin^, &r.
I found the Caiket, Sec.
When William at Eve, &c.
WHEN William at eve meets me down at the ftyle,
How fweet is the nightingale's long ;
Of the day I forget all the labour and toil.
While the moon plays yon branches among.
By her beams, without blufhing, I hear him complain,
And believe ev'ry word of his fong :
You know not how fweet 'tis to love the dear fwain.
While the raoon plays yon branches among.
Rofma,
Cupid, God of foft Perfuafion.
CUPID, god of foft perfuafion.
Take the helplefs lover's part:
Seize, oh I'eize, fome kind occafion
To reward a faithful heart. Cupid, god, Sec.
Juftly thofe we tyrants call,
Who the body would enthral !
Tyrants of more cruel kind,
Thofe who would enflave the mind. Cupid, god, Sec.
What is grandeur ? foe to reft;
Childilh mummery at beft.
Happy I in humble Rate!
Catch, ye fools, the glittering bait. Cupid, god. Sec.
To eafe my Heart, &c.
TO cafe my heart I own'd my flame.
And much I fear I was to blame.
For tho' love's force we're doom'd to feel.
The heart its weaknefs fliould conceal.
The blufli that fpeaks the foften'd mind.
The figh that notes the wifli behind;
The tear which down the cheek will (teal.
With cautious art we fhould conceal.
And yet if honour guides the youth.
And welcome love is led by truth.
With joy at Hymen's porch we kneel,
Nor ftiive our weakaefs to conceal.