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

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THE
The Soldier's Medley.
CHARMS
OF MELODY.
THE lark was up, tlie morning grey,
The drums had beat a revalley,
And jolly foldiers on the ground,
In peaceful camps ilept fafe and found:
Only one poor foldier, v.ho,
Kought but love could e'er fubdue,
Wander'd to a neiglib'ring grove,
Tkere to vent his plaintive love.
«' Oh, woinen-are deKcate, dangerous things,
" Their fweets, like the bee's, are mingled with
" flings,
" They sre not to be gained without care and coft,
" They are hard to be won, and are eafily loft ;
" In feeking a fair one I found to, my fmart,
" I know not the way, but"! loft my poor heart."
As on the ground he lay,
Minerva came that way,
In armour bright and gay.
And unto him did lay :
" Rife, foldier, rife :
" Hark ! the drums have beat to arms,
" Hark !. to the fond alarms,
" Hang her beauty, mind your duty,
" Tiihk.not of her charms.
" Rife, foldier, rife,
" I'll take you by ,the hand,
" And I'll lead you through the land,
" And I'll give you the commarid
" Of a chofen band.
" Rife, foldier, rife,
" Dont be ftupid,
" Drive away Cupid,
"•Follow Minerva^ wife advice.
" Soldier, go home, go horoe,
" Ne'er mind your miitreis's fcorn,
" Slight, flight her again, flight, flight her again,
" For flighted love fliould (light return,"
The foldier, thus rous'd from his amorous love,
Hafted away to his duty,
And fwore to. Minerva a terrible oath,
He'd never think, more of her beauty.
Bachelors bluff, bachelors bluff,
Heigh for a heart as tough as a buff.
Thofe who are lingle never wear horns,
Thofe w'iX>,are Angle live happy;
Thofe who are married lye upon thotsis,
. And always look ragged and fliabby.
Cuckolds, come dig, cuckolds, come dij;,
Round about, cuckolds, come dance to myjigg.
Thofe who live Angle fear not a rout,
Nothin? to them can be fiveeter,
They have no wife to whimper or pout,
Saying " how can you leave me, dear creature/'
Bachelors bluff, bachelors bluff.
Heigh for a heart as tough as a buff.
Ye belles and beaus fo fmart and fair.
Say, were not foldiers form'd for love?
I'm lure you'll find them all lincere,
.If you but kind and conftant prove ;
But if you flight iheir pafiion ftill,
And lyrant'ize o'er hearts fo true,
Depend upon it they'll rebel,
And wiil not care a fig for yau.
Oh, hold your foolifli tongue,
A little laughing Cupid laid,
Have you not heard it fung.
That conftancy will win a maid ;
Then what on earth or hcav'n above
Is equal to the joys of love ?
Let wifdom preach in schools.
What has flie with love to do ?
Vv'^e go not by her rulec,
Unbounded pleafures we purfue :
On rofy.wing our fancy flies.
And ev'ry worldly care defies.
Let Mars in council boaft.
Of refoluuon, ftrength and art,
Love cornes withjuta hoft,
And fteals away the foldier's heart :
Love breaks the bow, the f.vord, the fpear,
And turns the angry face of war.
The greateft men alive,
Ey Cupid's bow have been o'ercome,
'Tis vain with love to ftrive,
Though arm'd with fpear, or. fword or gun ;
Then ground your arms, fons of wars.
There's no quarrelling with the lair.
- Norah.
Sung in ihe Comic Opern of ' Fatrkl in Frujfia^
AWAY, ye giddy fmiling throng
Of tempting beauties, fair and young,
My heart is true, altho' my tongue
Should fing of lovely Flora ;
Or fhould I gaze with fond defire.
Should breath of roles fan the fire ;
And tho' I on a touch expire.
My foul is thine, fweet Norah.
The bonds of Hymen o'er my mind,
My conftant foul muft ever bind,
To that dear woman left behind,
My kind, my tender Norah ;
But, oh I I fear each mortal part,
Nay, e'en this true, this faithful heart,
Refiftlefs to the urchin's dart,
Shot by the eyes ot Flora.
Illufive vapour, tranfient blaze.
Oh I vanifh while I vvand'ring gaze,
.But fhine like Dian's'filver rays.
My paffion chafte for Norah ;
Yet Hymen winks, and Venus fmiles,
And paffion ev'ry fcnfe beguiles.
And Cupid with his thoufand wiles,
AflTift my charming Flora.
Ah, Solitude, take my Diftrefs.
Sung in the Comic Opei-a of ' Ths CaJ}le of Andalufia^
AH, Solitude, take my diftrefs,
My griefs I'll unbofom to thee,
Each figh thou can'ft gently reprefs,
Thy fiience is mufic to me.
Yet peace from my fonnet may fpring.
For peace let nie fly the gay throng,
To foften my forrows I fingj
Yet forrow's the theme of my fong.