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

J34
THE CHARMS OF MELODY.
Towdy Rowdy Dow.
WITH a merry tale
Serjeants beat the drum ;
Noddles full of ale,
Village lads they hum.
Soldiers out go all,
Famous get in ftory ;
If rhey chance to fall, \
Don't they fleep in glory ?
Towdy rowdy dow, &c.
Lawyers try, when fee'd,
Juries to make pliant.
If the/ can't fucceed,
Then they hum their client .'
To perfecflion come.
Humming all the trade is.
Ladies, lovers hum,
Lovers hum the ladies.
Towdy rowdy dow, &c.
Ha' n't Britania's fons
Often humm'd Mounfeer ?
Ha'n't they humm'd the Dons ?—
Let iheir fleets appear —
Strike th'ey mufl tho' loth,
(Ships with dollars, cramm'd)
If they're not humm'd both,
Then 1 will be df- — d.
Towdy rowdy dow, &c.
His fparkling eyes were black as jet.
(Sung in Blue Beard.)
HIS fparkling eyes were black as jet,;
Chica, chica, chica, cho.
Can I my lovely Turk forget ?—
Oh ! never, never, never, no !
Did he not watch 'till night did fall,
And fail in filence on the fea ;
Did he not clime our fea-girt wall,
To talk fo lovmgly ro me ? —
O! his fparkling eyes, &c.
His lips were of the coral hue-;
His teeth of ivory fo white.;
But he was hurried from my view.
Who gave to me fo much delight.'
And, why (hould tender lovers part !
And why fliould fathers cruel be !
Why bid me banifti from my heart
A heart fo full of love for me !
O ! his fparkling eyes, &c.
Morning.
IN the barn the tenant cock,
Clofe to Partlet perch'd on high,
Brifkly crows, (the fhepherd's clock !)
Jocund that the morning's nigh.
Swiftlv from the mountain's brow.
Shadows, nurs'd by night, retire.
And the peeping fun-beam, now.
Paints with gold the village fpire.
Philomel forfakes the thorn,
Plaintive where (he prates all night ;
And the lark to meet ihe morn.
Soars bjyond the Ihepherd's fight.
From the low-roof'd cottage ridge.
See the chatt'ring fwallows fpring ;
Darling through the one arch'd bridge,
Oiiick fhe dips her dappled wfng.
Now the pine-tree's waving top,
Gently greets the morning gale ;
Kidlings now begin to crop
Daifies on the dewy dale.
From the balmy fweets uncloy'd
(Reftlefs till her talk be done)
Now the bufy bee's employ'd
Sipping dew before the fun.
Trickling through the crevic'd rock.
Where the limpid fiream diflils,
Sweet refrefhment waits the flock,
When 'tis fun-drove from the hills.
Co'in's for the promis'd corn
(Ere the harveft hopes are ripe)
Anxious ;-r— whild the huntfman's horn.
Boldly founding, drowns his pipe.
Sweet — O Sweet, the warbling throng,
On the white emblofTom'd fpray .'
Nature's univerfal fong
Echoes to the rifing day.
S
Cunningham
Noon.
FERVID on the glitt'ring flood.
Now the noontide radiance glows :
Drooping o'er its infant bud,
Not a dew-drop's left the rofe.
By the brook the (hepherd dines.
From the fierce meridian hear,
Shelter'd by the branching pines,
Pendant o'er his grafly feat.
Now the flock f)rfakes the glade.
Where uncheck'd the fun-beams fall;
Sure to find a pleafing fhade
By the ivy'd abbey wall.
Echo in her airy round.
O'er the river, rock and hill.
Cannot catch a fingle found.
Save the rlack of yonder mill.
Cattle court the zephyr's bland,
Where the ftreamlet wander coo!.
Or with languid filence fland
Midway in the marfliy pool.
But from mountain, dell, or flream.
Not a flutt'riiig zephyr fprings :
Fearful left the noontide beam
Scorch its foft, its filken wings.
Not a leaf has leave to flir,
Nature's luU'd, — ferene — and fiill!
Q^uiet e'en the fliepherd's cur.
Sleeping on the heath-clad hill.
Languid is the landfcape round,
'Till the freflt defcending fl^ower,
Grateful to the thiril^/ ground,
Raifes every fainting flower.
Now the hill — the hedge— is green.
Now the warbler's throat's in tune :
Blithfome is the verdant fcene,
Brighten'd by the beams of Noon J
Cunninp/iam,