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

THE CHARMS OF MELODY.
1
NONE CAN' LOVE LIKE AN IRISHMAN.
THE turban'd Turk, who fcoj-ns the worW,
May ftrut about, with his whiflcers curl'd—
Keep a hundred -wives under lock and key.
For no body elfe but himfelf to fee :
Yet'lon;; may he pray with his Alcoran,
Before he can love like an Irifhman.
Before he can love like an Irifiiman—
Like an Irifhman ;
Before he can love like and Irifhman.
The gay Monfieur, a flave no more —
The folemn Don, the foft Signior ;
The Dutch Mynheer, fo full of pride—
The Ruffian, Pruflian, Swede, befide ;
They all may do whate'er they can —
But they'll never love like an Irifhman.
Like an Irijkman, ^c.
The London folks themfelves beguile,
And think they pleafe in a capital ftile ;
Yet let them afk, as they crofs the ftreet,
Of any young virgin they happen to meet-;
And I'm fure fhe'll fa-/, from behind her fan—
■ " O! there's none can love like an Irifhman!"
Like an Irijhman, &c.
FKOM NIGHT 'TILL MORN-
FROM night 'till morn I take my glafs,
In hopes to foj-get my Chloe;
From night, &c.
But as I take the pleafing draught.
She's ne'er the lefs before me :
Ah I no, no — wine cannot cure
The pain I endure for my Chloe.
To -wine I fte-w, to eafe the pain
Her beauteous ch'arms created.;
To -wine, &c.
But wine more firmly bound the chain.
And love -would not be cheated.
Ah .' no, no, ^s.
THE STREAMLET THAT FLOW'D.
^""'HE flreamlet that fiow'd round her cot,
J- All the charms of my Emily knew ;
iHow oft has its courfe been forgot.
While it paus'd her dear image to woo !
Believe me, the fond filver tide
Knew from vibence it deriv'd the fair prize.;
For, filenrly fwelling with pride.
It refledled her back to the Ikies
MA CHERE 'AMIE.
MA chere araie, my. charming fair,
Whoie fmiles cart banifh ev'ry care ;
In kind compaflion fjjiile on me,
Whofe only care is love of thee- Ma chere, fc.
Under fvveet friendfliip's facred name,
My bofomc.iught the tender flame :
May friendlhip in thy bofom be
Converted into love for me. Ma chere, L\c.
Together rear'd, tog'CtlMr grown —
let us now unite in one :
Let pity foften thy decree —
1 droop, dear maid — J die'for thee. M^ chere, is'c.
SWEET BIRD.
OTILL let thy plaintive numbers flow,
*^ Sweet bird of folitude and night ;
And I will join the fong of wo2,
LTntil the morn's returning light.
With thee I Iliun the v.-orld.'s relief
Woo for row only to my breaft I
And prefs, for luxury of grief.
The thorn that will not let it refl-i
JANE OF GRISIPOLY— ^zV, ' MoggyLawtherJ-
r\ HAD I Allan Ramfay's art,
^^ To fing my paffion tender.
In ev'ry line flie'd read my heart,
Such foothing ftrains I'd fend her :
Nor his, nor gentle Rizzio's aid.
To fhew, is all a folly,
Ho-w m-ach I love the charming maid.
Sweet Jane of Grifipoly.
She makes me know what all defire,
So lovely are her glances —
Hcrmodcll air then chetks my fire.
And damps my bold advances :
Tho' fprightly as the bounding fawn,
"i^et by her conquer'd wholly—
For modefl; as the blufhing dawn
Is Jane of Grifipoly.
My fenfes fhe's bevrilder'd quite
I leem an am'rous ninny :
A letter to a friend I write—
For Sandy I fign Jenny !
Laft -Sunday, when from church -I came,
With looks demure and holy,
I figh'd, when afk'd the text to name,
" Sweet Jane of Grifipoly !"
My Jenny is no fortune great,
And lam poor and lowly—
A fig for pow'r and grand eftate.
Her perlbn I love Iblely :
From ev'ry fordid, felfifh view,
So free my heart is wholly ;
And fhe is kind as I am true —
Sv.edt Jane of Grifipoly.
THE TRJ UMFH OF VENUS.
■^Ho' Bacchus may boaft of his care-killing bowl.
And Folly in thought-drowning revels delight,
Such worfliip, alas ! hath no charms for my foul,
When fofter devotions the fenfes invite.
To the arrow of Fate, or the canker of Care,
His potions oblivious a balm may beftow ;
lint to fancy, that feeds on the charms of the fair,
The death of refledlion's the birth of all woe.
What foul that's poffefs'd of a dream fo divine,
\Vitl« riot would bid the fvveet vifion begone?
:For the tear that bedews "Senfibility's fhrine
Is -a drop of more worth than all Kacchus's tun.
The tender excefs that enamours the heart
To few is imparted — to millions deny'd :
"Tis the brain of the viftim that tempers the dart ;
And fools jeft at that, for which fages have dy 'd.
Each change and excefs hath thro'lifebeen my doom,
And well can I fptak of its joy and its ftrife ;
The bottle affords us a glimpfe thro* the gloom
But love's the true funfhine that gladdens our life.
Come, then, roiy Venus, and fpread o'er my fi^ht
Thofe magic illufions-that ravifh the foul
Awake in my breaft the foft dream of deli£;ht.
And drop from thy myrtle otie leaf in my bowl.
WHEN BIDDEN to the WAKE or FAIR.
WHEN bidden to the wake or fair.
The joy of each true hearted fwain.
When Phoebe promis'd to be there,
I loiter'd laft of all the train.
If chanc'd fome fairing caught her eye.
The ribbon gay, or filken glove,
With eager hafle I ran to buy —
For what is gold compar'd to love ?
My pofey on her bofom plac'd —
Could Henry fweete"- fcents exhale r
Her auburn locks my ribbon grac'd.
And flutter'd in the wanton gale.
With fcorn fhe hears me now complain—
Nor can thofe ruflic prefents move ;
Ker heart prefers a richer fwain-^
For gold, alas ! has banifh'd lovfi!