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

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THE CHARMS OF MELODY.
Beauty blooms on every Thorn.
BEAUTY blooms on every thorn.
Lovely fiiew the fields to view,
Fair the blufh of rifing morn,
Fairer you.
Sweet the flow'rs in rich array.
Pearled o'er with morning dew,
Sweet the breath of infant iVIay,
Sweeter you.
Mild the breeze that fans the grove.
Mild the feather'd nation too,
Wild the voice of happy love.
Milder you.
Sally in our Alley.
f?)! Mr. Henry Cany.
OF all the girls that arefo fmart.
There's none like pretty Sally;
She is the darling of my heart.
And Ihe lives in our alley :
There's ne'er a lady in the land,
That's half fo fweet as Sally ;
She is the darling of my heart,
And fhe lives in our alley.
Her father he makes cabbage nets.
And thro' the ftreets does cry 'em ;
Her mother (he fells laces long.
To fuch as choofe to buy 'em ;
But fure fuch folks cou'd ne'er beget
So fweet a girl as Sally ;
She is the darling of my heart.
And (he lives in our alley.
When {he is by, I leave my work,
I love her fo fincerely ;
My mafter comes like any Turk,
And bangs me moft f^verely ;
But let him bang his belly full,
I'll bear it all for Sally ;
She is the darling of my heart.
And (he lives in our alley.
Of all the days that's in the week,
I dearly love but one day ;
And that's the day that comes betwixt,
A Saturday and Monday ;
For then I'm dreft all in my beft.
To walk abroad with Sally ;
She is the darling of my heart.
And fhe lives in our alley.
My mafler carries me to church,
And often am I blamed ;
Becaufe I leave him in the lurch.
Soon as the text is named ;
I leave the church in (ermon time.
And llink away to Sally ;
She is the darling of my heart.
And (he lives in our alley.
When Chriftmas comes about again.
Oh ! then I (hall have money } -
I'll hoard it up and box it all,
And give it to my honey ;
I wi(h it were ten thoufand pounds,
I'd give it all to Sally ;
She is the darling of my heart.
And (he lives in our alley.
My matter and the neighbours all,
Make game of me and Sally j
And, but for her, I'd better be
A flave and row a galley ;
But when my fev'n long years are out.
Oh! then I'll marry Sally ;
Oh ! then we'll wed, and then we'll bed.
But not in our alley.
The Swelling Canvafs.
THE fwelling, canvafs caught the breeze.
The (hip flew thro' the fea,
But nought, Louifa', could avail.
To take my thoughts from thee :
Ah ! no — from love, my xharming maid, •
I'd every pain endure ;
And you alone the wound have made.
That you alone can cure.
When loud contending billows fweep.
And filver'd waves arife.
The fhip now plunges in the deep.
And now aflails the fkies :
But greater are the ftorms by far
That in my bofom roll.
Love's ev'ry conflidt ftruggles there.
And agitates my foul.
Thy form, my mind, my padion holds,
No one e'er lov'd more true;
Tho' parted diftant as the poles.
My heart is ftill with you j
In pity then return my love, '
Nor from my wifhes fly.
For if you fmile 'twill heaven prove,'
But if you frown 1 die.
A.
The Cottager's -Daughter.
.H ! tell meyefwains have you feen my Paflora,
O fay have you met the fweet maid in your way,
Tranfcendant as Venus, and blithe as Aurora,
From Neptune's bed rifing to hail the new day.
Forlorn do I wander, and long time have fought her.
The faireft, the rarefl, f-)r ever my theme :
A goddefs in form, tho' a cottager's daughter.
That dwells on the borders of Aln's winding ftream.
Of Alns iviniiing Jheam, &ff.
Tho' lordlings fo gay and young fquires have fought
her,
To link her fair hand in the conjugal chain.
Devoid of ambition, the cottager's daughter,
Convinc'd them that flatt'ry and offers were vain:
When firft I beheld her, 1 fondly befought her.
My heart did her homage, and love was my theme.
She vow'd to be mine, the faeet cottager's daughter.
That dwells on the borders of Aln's winding (fream.
Then why thus alone does (he leave me to languifh,
Paftora to fplendour cou'd ne'er yield her hand.
Ah ! no, (he returns to remove my fond anguifii.
O'er her heart love and truth (^ill retain their com-
mand.
The wealth of Golconda cou'd never have bought her.
For love, truth and conftancy ftill is her theme ;
Then give me, kind Hymen, the cottager's daughter.
That dwells on the borders of Aln's winding ftream.
The Woodman.
STAY, trnv'ller, t;irry here to-night.
The rain yet beats, the wind is loud.
The moon has too withdrawn her light,
And gone to fleep behind a cloud.
'Tis feven long miles acrofs the moor.
And fliould you chance to go aftray.
You'll meet, 1 fear, no friendly door.
Nor foul to tell the ready way.
Come, deareft Kate, our meal prepare.
This ftranger (hall partake our beft ;
A cake and rafher be his fare,
With ale that makes the weary bleft.
Approach the hearth, the:etakea place,
And 'till the hour of reft draws nigh.
Of Robin Hood and Chevy Chace
We'll fing,— thento our pallets hie.