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

THE CHARMS OF MELODY,
179
The World, my dear Myra.
J HE world, my dear Myra, if full of deceit,
I And friendfhip's a jewel we feldom can meet ;
I How ftrange does it feem, that in fearching around,
' This fource of content is fo rare to be found ?
i.Oh,Friendfhip! thou balm, and rich fweetner of life,
1 Kind parent of eafe, and compofer of ftrife;
Without thee, alas ! what are riches and powei,
But empty delufion, the joys of an hour?
i| How much to be priz'd and efteem'd is a friend
: On whom we may always with falety depend ?
'Our joys, when extended, will always increafc ;
And griefs, when divided, are hufh'd into peace;
When fortune is fmiling what crouds will appear
Their kindnefs-to offer, and friendfhip fincere ;
Yet change but the profpeft, and point out diflrefs;
No longer to. court you they eagerly prefs.
lanthe, the lovely.
IANTHE, the lovely, the joy of the fwain.
By Iphis was lov'd, and lov'd Iphis again,
,'6he liv'd in the youth, and the youth in the fair, .
Their pleafure was equal and equal their care.
No time nor enjoyment, their fondnefs withdrew,
tut the longer they liv'd, ftill fonder they grew.
A paffion fo happy alarm 'd all the plain.
Some envy'd t-he nymph, but more envy'd the fwain.
Some fwore 'twere a pity their loves to invade,
That the lovers alone for each other was made.
But all have confented, that none ever knew
.A nymph. yet fo tind, or a Ihepherd fo true.
Jjove faw them with pleafure, and vow'd to take care
•Of the faithful, the, tender, the innocent pair,
What either did want, he bid either to move.
But they wanted nothing, but ever to love,
;Said 'twqs all that to blefs them, his god-head could
do.
That they'ftill. might be kind, and ftill might , be
i true-
1 am a, poor Shepherd undone.
TAM a poor fhepherd undone.
And cannot be cured by an ;
Tor a nymph as bright as the fun.
Has ftole away my heart;
A.nd how to get it again
There's none but Ihe can tell.
To cure me of my pain,
By faying (he loves me well.
And, alas, poor fhepherd I alack and a well-a-day,
Before I was.in love, Oh 1 every month was May.
If to love fhe fhould not incline,
I told' her I'd die in an hour.
To die, fays Ihe, 'tis in thine,
But to love 'tis not in my power ;
■I aflc'd her the reafon why
She could not of me approve ;
.'She faid 'twas a talk too hard
To give any reafon for love.
^Tid alas, ^c.
■She afk'd me of my eftate,
I told her a flock of fheep,
The grafs whereon they graze.
Where. fhe and I might fleep ;
JBefides a good ten pounds.
In old King Harry's groats,
'With hooks and crooks abound.
And birds of fundry notes.
The Scold.
THE plague of one's life
Is furely a wife ;
Who ftill is fomenting of evil :
From morning to night,
All is wrong, nothing right,
A fcold is fure worfe than the devil.
When I firft gave a kifs,
I thought that each blifs
Was center'd in fweet pretty Mary ;
But now I am wed,
O ! I wifli I was dead ;
Her temper I find the contrary.
Let me fay what I will.
Her tongue won't lay ftill.
Like the clack of a mill it is going;
If I flop up my ears,
In a rage fhe appears.
And more hot then her paffion is glowing.
If I go, or I ftay.
At home, or away.
Each ferves her alike for a riot;
Tho' a foe to all ftrife,
Such a devil's my wife.
She never will let. me be quiet.
MA L L A D.
/■4nd.alas, Ifc.
The Bridal Bed.
IT was a -maid of low degree
Sat on her true love's grave,
And with her tears moft piteoufly
The green turf ftie did lave ;
She ftrew'd the flow'r, Ihe plucfe'd the wee4,
And fhow'rs of tears fhe fhed :
" Sweet turf," fhe cry'd, " by fate decreed
" To be my bridal bed !
" I've fet thee, flow'r, for that the flow'r
" Of manhood lyeth here ;
" And water'd thee with plenteous fliow'f
" Of many a briny tear."
And ftill fhe cry'd, " O ftay, my love,
" My true love, ftay for me ;
-" Stay till I've deck'd my bridal bed,
" And I will follow thea.
" I pluck'd thee, we^d, for that no weed
" Did in his bofom grow ;
'■ But fweeteft flow'rs, from virtue's feed,
" Did there fpontaneous blow :
" But ah ! their beauteous tints, no more
" Their balmy fragrance fhed,
" And I muft ftrew this. meaner flow'r,
" To deck. my bridal bed.
" Sweet turf, thy green more green appears,
" Tears make thy verdure grow ;
" Then ftill I'll water thee with tears,
" That thus profufely flow.
" Oh ftay for me, departed youth,
" My true-love, ftay for me ;
" Stay till I've deck'd my bridal bed,
" And I will follow thee.
'" This is the flovv'ry wreath he wove,
" To deck his bride, dear youth I
" And this th.e ring with which my lov£
" To me did plight his troth ;
. " And this dear ring I was to keep,
" And with it to be wed ' ,
■•' But here, alas ! I figh and weep-
" To deck my bridal bed."