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(23) Page 19 - Sweet lavender
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THE CHARMS OF MELODY.
19
The Flower Girl.
IN poverty's garb tho' tis true I'm array 'd.
Yet jocund with me pafs the hours;
Contentment is mine, tho' apoor ruftic inaitl,
I cheerfull cry — who'll buy fweet flow'rs?
Thefe rofes fhall give girls a warning,
That thofe beauties, thofe dimples they prize.
Which they take fo much pains in adorning,
Soon, like the role, withers, and dies :
Then ye on whom fortune her affluence pours,
Come purchafe.I pray ye, a wreath of fweet flow'r*.
When fpi-ing doth 0e face of all nature infpire.
And gladdens the earth with its fhow'rs;
VVhen cold hoary f lofls irom the meadows retire.
Then i cearfuU cry who'll buy fwcetflow'rs ;
Then, ladies, I pray take a warning,
'Tis not beauty alone you fl-.ould prif e -,
For, tho' frefh and blooming this morning,
Alas! on the morrow it withers and dies:
Then ye on whom -forfune her affluence pours,
"■(Mnepurchaie, I pray ye, a w reath of fweet flow'rs.
Sweet Lavender.
[TOV/ Iiappy was of late each morn,
Ll I uak'd from foft repofe,
Ind carelefs trip the verdant lawn
Where frefh the hawthorn blows,
'ill lo\e that caus'd the tear to fmart, ^
And ftoic contentment's fweet,
low's left me with an aching heart,
To cry thro' Loudon (Ireets,
Four bunches a penny f\veet lavender, four
bunches a penny,
Four bunches a penny fweet lavender, four
bunch js a penny.
liattho' rtiy cot was humbly poor.
Calm peace her bleflings lent ;
nd fmil'd upon my threfhold door,
With innocent content ;
"ill William came, the pride of fwains.
And ftcle away its fweets ;
^hich made, me leave my native plains.
To cry thro' London ftreets
Four bunches a^enny, &C'
ut glory fill'd his manly breaft, * .
He fled to wars alarms; '
nd left me with a heart oppreft,
Difrob'd of love's foft charms :
3 follow him in humble guife,
I hade adieu to fweets
village fports, with flreaming eyes,
To cry thro' London llreets.
Four hunches a pinny, &c.
len lovely maidens come and buy,
ilhey'll fcatt-er fweet perfume ;
jr nought with nature's flore can vie,
[Or ftied fo foft a bloom ;
fhall my grateful bofora blefs
The hand that bounty greets,
id aids poor Sue with fond redrefs,
Thai cries thro' London fireets
Four bunches a ptnny, &c-
lie Nymph who in my bofoni reigns.
HE nymph who in my bofom reigns,
I With luch full force my heart enchains;
t nothing ever can impair
empire ihe polTefTes there.
;3 digs for ilones of radiant ray,
ils bdler matter in his way ;
wortlilefs load he may contemn,
piizfcsllill and fjeks the gem.
LdL..
The Traveller benighted.
* ' I ■'HE travell-er benighted,
■■• And led thro' weary ways,
The lam-p of day new lighted.
With joy the dawn furveys.
The fifing profpefts viewing.
Each look is forward catl ;
He fmiles, his courfe purfuing.
Nor thinks of what is paft. . iow in a
■■ FillagC'
The Trim-built Wherry.
'T'HEN farewell my trim-built wherry,
-*■ Oars, and coat, and badge farewell ;
Never more at Chelfea ferry.
Shall your Thomas take a fpelL
But to hope atid peace a llranger,
In the battle's he"at I go ;
Where expos'd to ev'ry danger, '
Some friendly ball Ihall lay me low.
Then may-hap when homeward fleering.
With the news my mefs-matescome,
Even you my flory hearing,
With a figh may cry — poor Tom !
IJie Watermarh
How ftands the Glafs around.
H<
Low flands the glafs around,
For fhawie, you fake no care, my boys.
How flands the glafs around,
Let mirth and wine abound ;
The trumpets found,
The colours they are flying, boys.
To fight, kill or wound ;
May we ftiil be found,
Content with our hard fate, my boys.
On the cold ground.
Why, foldiers, why,
Should we be melancholy, boys.
Why, foldiers, why,
Whofe bufinefs 'tis to die :
What !— fighing, fie !
Hang fear, drink on, be jolly, boys;
'Tis he, you, or I !
Cold, hot, wet, or dry,
We're alw ays bound to follow, boys.
And fcorn to fly.
'Tis but in vain,
I mean not to upbraid ye, boys ;
'Tis but in vain
For foldiers to complain
Should next campaign
Send us to him who made us, boys-
We're free from pain ;
But if we remain,
A bottle and kind landlady
Cure all again.
Gen Wolfe-
Had I Heart for falihood fram'd.
Air,—' Molly A/lore.'
TT AD la heart for falfhood fram'd,
-*•■■- I ne'er could inju.e you:
For tho' your tongue no promile claira'd.
Your charms would make me true.
To you no foul fliall bear deceit.
No ilranger offer w-rong :
for friends in all the ag'd you'll meet.
And lovers in the young.
But when they learn that you have, bleft
Another with your heart.
They'll bid afpiring pafTion refl.
And aft a brother's part :
Then, lady, dread not here deceit,
Nor fear 10 fuffer wrong ;
For fi-i;nds in all the ag'd you'll meet,
And bro'.hers in the young. Skiridan.
19
The Flower Girl.
IN poverty's garb tho' tis true I'm array 'd.
Yet jocund with me pafs the hours;
Contentment is mine, tho' apoor ruftic inaitl,
I cheerfull cry — who'll buy fweet flow'rs?
Thefe rofes fhall give girls a warning,
That thofe beauties, thofe dimples they prize.
Which they take fo much pains in adorning,
Soon, like the role, withers, and dies :
Then ye on whom fortune her affluence pours,
Come purchafe.I pray ye, a wreath of fweet flow'r*.
When fpi-ing doth 0e face of all nature infpire.
And gladdens the earth with its fhow'rs;
VVhen cold hoary f lofls irom the meadows retire.
Then i cearfuU cry who'll buy fwcetflow'rs ;
Then, ladies, I pray take a warning,
'Tis not beauty alone you fl-.ould prif e -,
For, tho' frefh and blooming this morning,
Alas! on the morrow it withers and dies:
Then ye on whom -forfune her affluence pours,
"■(Mnepurchaie, I pray ye, a w reath of fweet flow'rs.
Sweet Lavender.
[TOV/ Iiappy was of late each morn,
Ll I uak'd from foft repofe,
Ind carelefs trip the verdant lawn
Where frefh the hawthorn blows,
'ill lo\e that caus'd the tear to fmart, ^
And ftoic contentment's fweet,
low's left me with an aching heart,
To cry thro' Loudon (Ireets,
Four bunches a penny f\veet lavender, four
bunches a penny,
Four bunches a penny fweet lavender, four
bunch js a penny.
liattho' rtiy cot was humbly poor.
Calm peace her bleflings lent ;
nd fmil'd upon my threfhold door,
With innocent content ;
"ill William came, the pride of fwains.
And ftcle away its fweets ;
^hich made, me leave my native plains.
To cry thro' London ftreets
Four bunches a^enny, &C'
ut glory fill'd his manly breaft, * .
He fled to wars alarms; '
nd left me with a heart oppreft,
Difrob'd of love's foft charms :
3 follow him in humble guife,
I hade adieu to fweets
village fports, with flreaming eyes,
To cry thro' London llreets.
Four hunches a pinny, &c.
len lovely maidens come and buy,
ilhey'll fcatt-er fweet perfume ;
jr nought with nature's flore can vie,
[Or ftied fo foft a bloom ;
fhall my grateful bofora blefs
The hand that bounty greets,
id aids poor Sue with fond redrefs,
Thai cries thro' London fireets
Four bunches a ptnny, &c-
lie Nymph who in my bofoni reigns.
HE nymph who in my bofom reigns,
I With luch full force my heart enchains;
t nothing ever can impair
empire ihe polTefTes there.
;3 digs for ilones of radiant ray,
ils bdler matter in his way ;
wortlilefs load he may contemn,
piizfcsllill and fjeks the gem.
LdL..
The Traveller benighted.
* ' I ■'HE travell-er benighted,
■■• And led thro' weary ways,
The lam-p of day new lighted.
With joy the dawn furveys.
The fifing profpefts viewing.
Each look is forward catl ;
He fmiles, his courfe purfuing.
Nor thinks of what is paft. . iow in a
■■ FillagC'
The Trim-built Wherry.
'T'HEN farewell my trim-built wherry,
-*■ Oars, and coat, and badge farewell ;
Never more at Chelfea ferry.
Shall your Thomas take a fpelL
But to hope atid peace a llranger,
In the battle's he"at I go ;
Where expos'd to ev'ry danger, '
Some friendly ball Ihall lay me low.
Then may-hap when homeward fleering.
With the news my mefs-matescome,
Even you my flory hearing,
With a figh may cry — poor Tom !
IJie Watermarh
How ftands the Glafs around.
H<
Low flands the glafs around,
For fhawie, you fake no care, my boys.
How flands the glafs around,
Let mirth and wine abound ;
The trumpets found,
The colours they are flying, boys.
To fight, kill or wound ;
May we ftiil be found,
Content with our hard fate, my boys.
On the cold ground.
Why, foldiers, why,
Should we be melancholy, boys.
Why, foldiers, why,
Whofe bufinefs 'tis to die :
What !— fighing, fie !
Hang fear, drink on, be jolly, boys;
'Tis he, you, or I !
Cold, hot, wet, or dry,
We're alw ays bound to follow, boys.
And fcorn to fly.
'Tis but in vain,
I mean not to upbraid ye, boys ;
'Tis but in vain
For foldiers to complain
Should next campaign
Send us to him who made us, boys-
We're free from pain ;
But if we remain,
A bottle and kind landlady
Cure all again.
Gen Wolfe-
Had I Heart for falihood fram'd.
Air,—' Molly A/lore.'
TT AD la heart for falfhood fram'd,
-*•■■- I ne'er could inju.e you:
For tho' your tongue no promile claira'd.
Your charms would make me true.
To you no foul fliall bear deceit.
No ilranger offer w-rong :
for friends in all the ag'd you'll meet.
And lovers in the young.
But when they learn that you have, bleft
Another with your heart.
They'll bid afpiring pafTion refl.
And aft a brother's part :
Then, lady, dread not here deceit,
Nor fear 10 fuffer wrong ;
For fi-i;nds in all the ag'd you'll meet,
And bro'.hers in the young. Skiridan.
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Special collections of printed music > Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Charms of melody, or, Siren medley > (23) Page 19 - Sweet lavender |
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Permanent URL | https://digital.nls.uk/91429547 |
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Description | Also: The nymph who in my bosom reigns. Also: The traveller benighted. Also: The trim-built wherry. Also: How stands the glass around. Also: Had I a heart for falshood fram'd. |
Description | Scottish songs and music of the 18th and early 19th centuries, including music for the Highland bagpipe. These are selected items from the collection of John Glen (1833 to 1904). Also includes a few manuscripts, some treatises, and other books on the subject. |
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Description | The Glen Collection and the Inglis Collection represent mainly 18th and 19th century Scottish music, including Scottish songs. The collections of Berlioz and Verdi collected by bibliographer Cecil Hopkinson contain contemporary and later editions of the works of the two composers Berlioz and Verdi. |
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