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

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THE CHARMS OF MELODY.
The Beauteous Louifa.
SEE the park throng'd with beauties, th« tumult's
begun
And right-honor'd knaves talk of conqaefts they've
won J
But view yon pale damfel, and mark her fad air,
'Tis tiie btrauteoas Louifa, once virtuous as lair ;
Nor fpurn her, ye virgins, who iTione like a fun,
Ere tlie beauteous Louifa by man was undone.
A tirle'd defpoikr this peerlefs maid found,
And with fpecious pretences her innocence drown'd ;
But having grown weary and cloy'd of her charms,
The titled feducer expell'd her his arms :
K'en the conqueft hard won he infults with his
brearh,
Though the beauteous, Loui{a is pining to death.
though numbers yet offer rich proofs of their love,
The penitent vidim againft them is ftrove ;
Betray'd and abus'd by the man (heador'd.
She now only wifhes her honor reftor'd :
But, alafs! haplefs fair one, thy wifhes are vainl
And the heart-broke Louifa is left to complain.
But chance, when the fpoiler fhall hear (he's no more.
The fate of Louifa e'en he may deplore;
The breaft that could fpurn her may then heav€ a
figh.
And wifh the fair bloflbm flill on it might lie;
But, ah ! then how fruitlefs his love-proffer'd terms.
When the beauteous Louifa's a prey to the worms \
A New Hunting Song.
AURORA, now fummon the lads of the courfc.
Ye hunters from (lumb'ring arife ;
behokl how the fun in full fplendor beams forth.
How ruddy and bright feem the Ikies !
Then mount your Heet fteed — to the meadows
repair,
No pleafure furpafTes the fight of the hare.
The,flu|;gard that dozes his life-time away.
Arid cenfures the joys we partake ;
May ftrut for a while in the fun-fhine of day,
- But we deem his blifs — a miftake .'
As we bound o'er the heath, blooming health marks
the face.
And the horn's mellow notes but enliven the chafe.
The fopling ftiay boaft of his beauty and eafe.
And play with his miftreffe's fan j
Let him look in his glafs — the refiedion may pleafe,
The' he's more an ape than a man!
Unkennel the hounds, to the meadows repair.
And let us, enraptur'd, give chafe to the harel
Through life we fome kind of paftime purfue,
The ilatefman will dwell on the laws ;
The critic will tell you what learning can do.
While the lawyer will gain a bad caufe.
But we more exalted, breathe joy in the vale.
And uile true delight in a jug of mild alel
Diana comimands, now ye fportfmen arife,
The huntfmen the fummons proclaim ;
Away tq the woods, where the fox clofeiy lies.
The fcent is now freih on the plain.
Since the fun gilds tiie eail, and the morning is
bright.
Let the fports of the day crown with rapture the
tiieht.
Dick Dock.
DICK DOCK, a tar, at Greenwich moor'd, ■
One day had got his beer on board.
When he a poor maim'd penlioner from Chelfea
faw ;
And for to have his jeer and flout,
For the grog once in the wit's foon out.
Cries, how good mafler lobfter, did you lofe your
claw ? .
Was't one night in a drunken fray,
Or t'other when you ran away ? .
But hold you Dick, the poor fot has orte foot in the
grave
For flander's w-ind too faft you fly.
Do you think it fun, you fwab, you lie,
MisfortHnes ever claim the pity of the brave,
filisfortunes ever claim, &c.
Old Hannibal in words as grofs.
For he like Dick had got his dofe.
So to have his bout at grumbling took a fpell — ■
If I'm a lobfter, maffer crab.
By the information on your nab.
In fome ftirmifh or other they have crack'd your
fhell; '
And then how you hobbling go
On that jury maff. your timber fOe,
A nice one to find fault with one font in the frare.
But halt.' old Hannibal, halt! halt! halt!
Diflrefs was never yet a fault.
Misfortunes ever claim the pity of the brave.
Misfortunes ever claim, &c.
If Hannibal's your name, do you fee.
As fure as they Dick Dcjck call me.
As once it did fall out I ow'd my life to you.
Spilt from my hawfe, once when it was dark.
And nearly fwal lowed by a fhark,
Who boldly plung'd in, fav'd me, and pleas'd alt
the crew.
If that's the cafe then ceafe our jeers.
When boarded by ihe fame Moniieurs,
You a trueEnglifh lion frtatch'd me from the grave j
Crying, cowards, do the man no harm.
Damn me, don't you fee he has loft his arm.
Misfortunes ever claim the ^ity of the brave.
Misfortunes ever claim, &c
Let's broach a can before we part;
A friendly one with all my heart.
And as we pufh the grog about we'll cheerly fing.
On land and iea may Briton's fight.
The worlds example and delight,
And conquer ev'ry enemy of George our king.
Tis he who proves the hero's friend.
His bounty waits us to our end,
Tho' crii>pled ;ind laid up with one foot in the graTe«
Tiien tars and foldiers never fear,
You fhall not want tompaflion's tear,
Misfortunes ever claim the pity of the brave.
Misfortunes ever claim, &c.