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

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THE CHARMS OF IVIELODY.
The old Woman of Seventy-two.
WHEN I was young, tho' now am- old.
The men were tind and true ;
Jiiit now tliey're grown fo falfe and bold.
What can a woman do ?
JNow what can a woman do ?
for men _are, truly,
So unruly,
I tremble at feventy-two ?
"When I was fair^tho' now fo fo.
No hearts were giv'n lo rove,
Our pulfes beat nor faft, nor flov.'.
But all was faith and love;
Now what can a woman do?
For men are, truly.
So unruly,
I tremble at, feventy-two.
The Silver Ton'd Trumpet.
WHEN Tous'd by the trumpet's loud clangor to
arms,
Reluftant I quitted Eliza's bright charms ;
Tho' honour cc*nmanded, yet love fill'd my mind ;
For how could I leave the dear creature behind?
Yet the rage of the battle with courage I try'd,
Survived, while the heroes fell faft by my fide;
Lov-e flood my proteflor in all the alarms,
W hile the filver-ton'd trumpet iliil founded to arms.
Now olive' rob *d peace kind advances again,
And her bleffings difpenfes wide over the plain ;
Return'd to Eliza, we joitj^d in the throng,
"Where is heard the foft pipe, or the heart-lifting
fong ;
TEach rural amufemenf with rapture we try.
While the beams of contentment are form'd In the
eye:
Lovtfiood my protedor, (Jfc.
'What moTtallike me fo tranfcendently bleft,
Whenclafp'd by thecharmer with joyto her breaft?
The laurel of conqueft I give to the wind—
■'TIS nought without true love and honor combin'd;
.But when tlius united, how noble the name !
What envy jmuft wait on fo happy a fame ?
Loi>efiood my proteSor, l^c.
Ever Welcome.
COME, ye party jangling fwains,
Leave your flocks, and quit the plains ;
Triends to country, friends to court,
Nothing herefhall fpoil our fport.
Ever welcome to our feaft,
■ Welcome ev'ry friendly gueft.
Little gaudy fluttering miffes.
Smiling hopes of future bliffes 5
Laughing dames, and virgins gay.
Sprightly widows, come away !
E'ver wdtome, S?c.
All that lip'ning fun can bring,
jBeauteous fummer, beauteous fpring;
In one varying fcene we fhow,
The green, the ripe, the bud, the blow.
M-iJer welcome, CSV.
Comus jefting, mufic charming.
Mirth infpiring, beauty warming;
3\age and party malice flies.
Peace leturas and difcord dies.
jEntF welcome, '^c-
Gaffer Grey.
Ho ! why doft thou fhiver and fhake, Gaffet|
Grey,
And why doft thou nofe look fo blue ?
" 'Tis the weather is cold,
" And I'm very old,
" And my doublet is not very new, well-a-day 1"
Then line thy worn doublet with ale, Gaffer Greyll
And v/arm thy old heai-t v.ith a glafs ;
"'Nay, but money I've none,
" And my credit's all gone,
■ "Then fay how may that come to pafs? well-a-day!"
Hie away to the houfe on the brow. Gaffer Grey,
And knock at the jolly priefl's door,
" He has often fupplied me,
" And never denied me,
»• But — I dare not go there -any more, weU-a-dayl'"
'The lawyer lives under the hill. Gaffer Grey,
^For candour and juftice rever'd ;
" He will faften his locks,
"•And hint that the flocks
''For vagrants and rogues are prepar'd, well-a-day!*'
The fqu ire has fat beeves and brown ale, Gafferl
Grey,
And the feafon will open his ftore;
" His fat beeves and his beer,
" And his merry new year,
" Are all for the honefl, tho' poor, well-a-day I"
The wicked and idle in youth. Gaffer Grey !
Muft expeft to be poor when they're old;
" Alas, the h"ard fate,
" To {eel when too late,
" The truth I have ever been <old, well-a-day 1"
Jockey of Aberdeen.
TTriTH tuneful pipe, and merry glee,
* * Young Jockey won my heart;
A bonnier lad you ne'er could fee.
All beauty without art.
In Aberdeen there -ne'er was leen,
A lad fo blithe and gay;
His glancing eyn, and comely meiij.
Has ftole my heart away.
Young Jemmy courts with artful fong.
But vain is a' his love ;
My Jockey blithe has lov'd me long.
To him I'll conftant prove.
In Aberdeen, ^c.
No more fliall I of fotrow know.
Nor ever more complain,
Nor fear my mammy's threats, I trow,
Now Jockey- is mine ain.
In Aberdeen, Is'c
Ceafe a while ye Winds to blow.
CEASE awhile ye wintis to blow,
Ceafe ye roaring ftreams to flow ;
Hufh'd be every other noife,
1 want to hear my lover's voice.
Here's the brook, the rock, the tree,
Hark .' a found! I think 'tis he !
'Tis not he, yet night comes on,
Where's my lovely wand'rer gone.
Loud I'll fpeak to make him hear,
'Tis I who calls my true love dear ;
The time is come, why this delay?
Alasi lay wand'rer.'i loft his way.
Ceafe, &c.
Ceafe, &c.
•Ceafe, 5?*.