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

Numb. 89]
THE
HARMS OF MELODY,
O R
SIREN MEDLET.
The Plm if the Publilhei is to embody in one Grand Folio Volume, all the Songs ancient and modern, in the Erglifli Lani;ua«e
worth preferving— forming aaUniverljl Magazine of Love, Sentimental, War, Hunting, Bacclmnalian, HumoroBs, Sea and Political
Songsj a» well as Old Englilli, liilh, i^cotch and Germag Ballads, Legendaries, &c. &c — To which will be added, a complete \nicM.
Dear Image of the Maid I Love.
DEAR image of the maid I love,
Whofe charms you bring to view ;
In abfence fome delight 1 feel
By gazing ftill on you.
Debar'd her fight by tyrant power.
How wretched fhould I be,
But that 1 cheer each lonely hour
By gazing ftill on thee.
Oh ! could I call this fair one mine,
What rapture fhou'd I feel ;
Oh ! cou'd I prefs that form divine.
Each hour my blifs would feal :
But ah, deprived of all her charms.
My foul can find no reft;
And (hould {he blefs another's arms,
I Defpair would fill my breaft.
The Valley Below.
THE broom bloom'd fo frefh and fo fair.
The lambkins were fporting around.
When I wander'd to breath the frefh air,
And by chance a rich treafure I found;
A lafs fat beneath a green fhade.
For whofe fmiles the whole world I'd forego ;
As blooming as May was the maid.
And fhe lives in the valley below.
Her fong ftruck my ear with furprife.
Her voice like the nightingale fweet,
But love took his feat in her eyes,
Where beauty and innocence meet.
From that moment my heart was her own,
For her ev'ry wifh I'd forego.
She's beauteous as rofes juft blown,
And Ihe lives in the valley below.
My cottage with woodbine o'er grown.
The fweet turtle dove cooing round,
IVly flocks and my herds are my own,
My paftures with hawthorn are bound.
All my riches I'll lay at her feet.
If her heart in return fhe'll beftow.
For no paftime can cheer my -retreat.
While (lie lives in the valley below.
I Owe you One.
HARRY came to me lafl week,
And I bade the rogue begone ;
With his lips he toiich'd my cheefei—
For, fa id he, " I owe you one.*'
Then he call'd me love and dear.
And my fltoiilder lean'd upon.
With a box, rho' on the ear,
" Sir," cry'd I,—" I pay you one."
A(51ing then the lover's part.
How the fellow's tongue ran on !—
Swearing he had loft his heart.
And of courfe I ow'd him one.
Then he paid me double price.
For no bounds his raptures knew
Kifllng once and killing twice,
Oh, faid he, I owe you two.
The Anfwcr to the Valley Below.
WHEN meek eve'd Aurora was drefs'd.
And breath'd balmy fweets on tlie mornj
The Iky-lark was quitting his neft.
When the timid flag flew from the thorn ;
Young Damon was firft in the chace.
He fhone like the God of the Bow,
The Graces all fmil'd in his face,
Bathe's iied from the valley below.
Sad fighing beneath the cool fhade,
I envy my kids as they play,
Soft flurabers my eye-lids invade.
While melody flows from the fpray.
The wood with fweet Philomel rings,.
She melts me with mnfical woe,
The lofs of my Damon ftie fings.
Who's fled from the valley below.
Adien thou fair regent of night.
No more fhall 1 Hay by thy beams.
Or view wiihexqiiifite delight.
Thy image that dance in the ftreams.
Ye night-birds that fcream as you f]y.
Go tell yon green towers my woe,
For Damon I pin'd and I die.
Who's fled from the valley below.
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