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

14^
THE CHARMS OF MELODY.
The Big Belly'd Bottle.
X HE women all tell me I'm falfe to my lafs,
That I quit my p.por.Ciiloe andftick to my glals;
But to you, men of reafon, my reafor.s I'll own.
And if you do'nt lite them, why let them aloae.
Altho'I have left her, the truth I'll declare,
1 believe Ihe was good, and I'm fure ihe was fair;
B.ut gopdnefs and charms in a bumper I fee.
That makes it as good and as charrning as Ihe.
My Chloe had dimples and fmiles, I muft owi^,
Euttho'&e could fmile, yet in truthflie could frown;
'Eut tell me, ye lovers uf liquor divine,
'"Did you e'er fee a frowu.io..a l^Ujaiperpf wifle ?
Her lilies arid rofes were jnfc in their, prime, '
Yet lilies and rofes are conquer'd by time ;
But'in wine, from its age fuch a benefit flows,
That -vve lite it the better the older it grows.
They tell me my love would in time have been
cloy'd, . _ r-h' - "■
And that beauty's infipid -when once 'tis enjoy 'd;
But in wine I both time ancl enjoyment defy,
For the longer I drink the more thi.rlly am I.
Let murders,- aiid- battles, and hiftory prove
The mifchiefs that wait upon rivals in love ;
But in drinking, thank heaven, -no rival contends,
.-Tor thejmore we love liquor, the more wekfe-ftfends
She too might have poifon'd the joy of xny life, ■
With nurles, and babies, and fqualling and flrife ;
But my wine neither nurfes nor babies can bring,
And a b(g-bellied bottle's a mighty good thing.
We fhorten our day when with love we engage,
It bririgs on difeafej and haftens old age ;
But wine from grim death can its votaries fave.
And keep out t'other leg when there's one in tlie
■' grave.
Perhaps, like her fex, ever falfe to their i^^ord.
She had left me to get an eftate or a lord ;
But my bumper (regarding nor title nor pelf)
.Will ftand by me when I can't ftand by myfelf.
*rhen let my dear Chloe no longer complain :
She's fid of her lover, and I of ray pain ;
For in wine, mighty wjjje. many comforts I fpy ;
Should you doubt jvhat I i|y,U^e a bumper and
try. . _ ' '^ ,.,.-.'
mm
Fill your Glafles.
FILL your glaffes, toaft your lalTes,
Now enliv'ning joys abound ;
Wine delights us, love unites us,
I^t the fparkling wine go rouiid.
Strife andforrow, both good morrow:.
With our liquor are ye drown'd !
Banifh thinking .' Ipirits finking !
Let the fparkling vyine go round.
Every fellow, docflors tell you,
~ Fall like flowers to the ground ;
This 'twill noiifilh, make them flourifh,
Then long life to all around.
■B.oom here !' room here 1 fons of hiunotir !
I muft give a toaft I've found ;
Then be ready, true and fieady,
Let the fentiment- go round-
May fincere ones, with their fair ones.
And their wifhes too, be crown d ;
.Pleafure giving, joy receiving.
Laughing while the world goes round.
YiMing Lubia.
YOUNG Lubin was a fhepherd boy,
Fair Rofalie a ruftic maid ;
They met, they lov'd, — each other's joy.
Together o'er the hills they ftray'd.
Their parents faw, and blefs'd their love.
Nor would their happinefs delay ;
To-morrow's dawn their blifs fhould prove,
To-morrow be their wedding day.
When as at eve, befide the brook.
Where ftray'd their flocks, they fat and fmil'd.
One lucklefs lamb the current took ;
'Twas Rofalie's — flie ftarted wild.
" Run, Lubin, run, my fav'rite fave ;**
Too fatally the youth obey'd :
He ran, he plung'd into the wave.
To give the little wand'rer aid.
But fcarce he guides him to the fliore.
When, faint and funk, poor Lubin dies :
Ah! Rofalie, for evermore,
In this cold grave thy lover lies.
On that lone bank, oh ! ftill be feen,
Faithful to grief, thou haplefs maid;
And with fad wreaths of cyprefs green.
For erver footh thy Lubin's fhade.
Sequel to Young Lubin.
ON that lone bank where Lubin dy'd.
Fair Rofalie, a v/retched maid.
Sat weeping o'er the cruel tide.
Faithful to jier Lubin's fhade.
" Oh ! may fome kind, fome gentle v/ave,
" Waft him to this mournful fliore :
" Thefe tender hands fhould make his grave,
" And deck his grave with, flow'rs o'er.
" I'd ever watch his mould'ring clay,
" And pray for his eternal reft ;
" When time his form has worn away,
" His duft I'd place within my breaft."
While thus Ihe moan'd her Lubin loft.
And Echo to her grief reply 'd :
Lo ! at her feet his corpfe was toft.
She fhriek'd, fhe clafp'd him, and fhe dy'd.
Hark ! the joy infpiring Horn.
HARK! hark! the joy infpiring horn
Salutes the rofy, rifing morn,
And echoes thro' the dale ;
With clam'rous peals the hills refound.
The hounds quick fcented fcow'r the ground^
And fnufF the fragrant gale.
Nor gates nor hedges can impede
The brifk high-mrttl'd ftarting fteed.
The jovial pack purfue ;
Like lightning darting o'er the plains,
-The diftant hills with fpeed he gains.
And lees the game in view.
Her path the timid hare forfakes,
And to the copfe for fhelter makes.
There pants, a while for breath;
When now the noife alarms her ear.
Her haunt's defcried, her fate is near,
■She fees approaching death.
Direfted by the well-known breer.e,
The hounds their trembling viftim feize.
She faints, (he falls, flie dies :
The diltant courfers now come in.
And join the loud triumphant din,
Till echo rends the fkies.
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