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

■ mni i WM MM-W B iamm i
THE
CHARMS OF MELODY,
O R
SIREN M E D L E r.
Moorings.
I'VE heard, cried a friend, that you tars tack and
tack,
And at fea what danger befel yoti.
But 1 don't know what's moorings. What don't
you ! cries Jack ;
Man your ear-tnckle, then, and I'll tell you.
Suppofe you'd a daughter (]uite beautiful grown,
And, in fpite of her tears and implorings.
Some I'coundrel abus'd her, and you knock'd hijn
down.
Why, d'ye fee, he'd be fafe at his moorings.
In life's voyage fliould yon trufl: a falfe friend with
the helm.
The top-lifts of his heart all akimbo,
A tempelt of rreach'ry your bark will o'erwhelm,
And your moorings will foon be in limbo :
Bur, if his heart's timbers bear up againft pelf,
And he's jurt in his reck'nings and icoreings.
He'll for yoii keep a look-out tlie fame as himfelf,
And you 11 find in his friendlhip fafe moorings.
'If wedlock's your port, and your mate true and kind.
In all weaihers will flick to her duty,
A cahn of contentment fiiall beam in your mind.
Safe moov'd in the haven of beauty :
But if fome frilky ikifiF, crank at every joint.
That lihens to vows and adorings,
fhape your courfe how you will, Hill you'll make
cuckold's point.
To lay up like a beacon at .moorings.
A glutton's faf' moor'd, head n-.id Bern by the gout;
A drunkard's moor'd under the table ;
In ftraws drowning men will hope's anchor find out,
While a hair's a philofopher's cable :
Thus mankind are a fhip, life a boiiferous main,
Of fate's billows where all hear the roarings,
Where for one calm of pleafure we've ten itorms of
pain.
Till death brings us all to our moorings.
Dibdh
The Orphan Boy.
I'M a poor ha plefs youth near a diHanttowf! bred.
And my friends I have iolt and my parents arc
dead.
So hither I came your protection to a;ain,
O don't let me alk that protecflion in vain.
How kind was my father, my mother how good.
How neat our fmtill cottage, clofe under the wood.
But now all are loft, your protecffion I'd gain,
O don't let me aflc that protection in vain.
To vice and to folly I yet am unknown.
And nature ha? mark'd me a child of her own,
How happy fhould I your proteJlion but gain,
O don't let me aik that protetffion in vain.
Since virtue and pity plead loudly my caufe.
In each gentle breaft let me hope for applaufe,
Moft grateful fll be if this boon I obtain,
Then don't let me alk for protecffion in vain.
The Rofe.
THE rofe had been wafli'd — ^juft wafh'd in a
fhower,
which Mary to Anna con\ey'd;
The plentiful moifture invumber'd the flower.
And weigh'd down its beautiful head :
The cup was all fiU'd, and the leaves were ail
we:.
And it'Teem'd, to a fanciful view.
To weep for the buds, it had left with regret,
■On the flourilhing bufli where it grew.
I haflily feiz'd it, unfit as it was
For a nofegay, fo dripping and drown'd.
And fivinging it rudely — too rudely, alas!
1 fnapp'd It — it fell to the ground;
" And fuch," I exclaim'd, " i-s the pitilefs pa't,
" S )me atfl by the delicate mind,
" Regardlels of wringing and breaking a heart
" Already to forrow refign'd.
" This elegant rofe, had I fliaken it lefs,
" Might have bloom'd with the owner awhile,
'* And the tenr that is wip'd wiih a little addrefs,
*' May be follow'd perhaps by a fmile."
Cotvpr.