Andante. THE VULTURE OF THE ALPS. The Music by J. J. Hutchinson, of the American Hutchinson Family. 1 Ive been a-mong the migh-ty Alps, and wander'd thro' their vales, And heard the honest mountain-eers re late their thrill - ing tales: 'Twas there I from a shepherd heard a innocent to save: That hu-man pow'r could not a-vail, that in-no-cent to save. 'My infant stretch'd his little hands imploringly to me, While struggling in the Vulture's grasp, all vainly to get free; I heard his agonizing cries, as loud and long he scream'd, Until, amidst the azure skies, a lessening spot he seem'd : The Vulture flapp'd his pond'rous wings, as swift away he flew A mote upon the sun's broad disk he seem'd unto my view; At length, I thought he check'd his speed, as if he would alight, 'Twas only a delusive thought, for all had vanish'd quite. All search was vain-some years had pass'dthat child was ne'er forgot : At length a daring hunter climb'd a high secluded spot, From whence, upon a rugged crag the chamois never reach'd, He saw an infant's fleshless bones the elements had bleach'd ; In haste I climb'd that rugged cliff-I could not stay away And there I found my infant's bones, fast mould'ring to decay! A tatter'd garment yet remain'd, though torn to many a shred The cap he wore that fatal morn was still upon his head !' When first in Lun-nun I ar-riv'd, On a visit, on a visit; When first in Lunnun I ar-riv'd, 'Midst heavy rain and thun - der; Then es - pied a lass in green, The bonniest lass by eyes e'er seen! I'd often heard of Beau-ty's Queen-Thinks I, by gum, I've found her! Sing tol de rol de rol de rol, Tutti hut - ti do. do; Sing tol de rol de ri 'Walk in, kind sir,' says she to me, Quite politely, quite politely; 'Walk in, kind sir,' says she to me ;'Poor lad !' they cried, he's undone.' 'Walk in, kind sir.' 'Not so,' says I, 'For I've got other fish to fry,I've seen you nome, so now good bye: I'ze Yorkshire, tho' in Lunnun.' fol de rol, &c. My pockets soon I rummag'd o'er, Cautious ever, cautious ever; My pockets soon I rummag'd o'er, Where I a diamond ring found: For I had this precaution took, To stick in each a small fishhook; In groping for my pocket-book, The hook it stripp'd her finger. Tol de rol, &c. Three weeks I've been in Lunnun town, Living idle, living idle ; Three weeks I've been in Lunnun town, 'Tis time to strike to work, sure. I sold the ring and got the brass, Tol de rol, &e. THE STORM. dis-tant whirlwinds rise, To the tempest-trou-bled Hark! the boatswain hoarsely bawling:'By topsail-sheets and haulyards stand! Down top-gallants quick be hawling! Down your staysails,-bund, boys, hand! Quick the topsail sheets let go! Now again the boatswain calls :- Reef the mizen; see all clear; o-cean, Where the seas contend with skies. Come, my hearts, be stout and bold While o'er the ship wild waves are beating, Both chain-pumps are chok'd below; For only that can save us now! Let the guns o'erboard be thrown; See, our mizen mast is gone! The leak we've found,-it cannot pour fast; Up, and rig a jury foremast ; She rights, she rights, boys! wear off shore. Close to th' lips a brimmer join: THE MODEST BACHELOR. just to his mind, just to his mind, 'Mongst England's fair daugh-ters one just to his mind. He's modest as any can possibly be ; His age, you should know, too, is just thirty-three; A fine flow of wit, and good-humour likewise: HARK! THE BELLS ARE GAYLY RINGING. Poetry by George Soane, A.B.; Music from Verdi's Opera of Nino.-Published by Davidson. Allegro Moderato. Thrown on the wide world, doom'd to wander and roam, Be reft of his pa-rents, be reft of a home, A stranger to plea-sure, to comfort, and joy, Be 11 hold little Ed-mund, the poor pea-sant boy! O! pi-ty, O! pi-ty poor peasant boy; O! pi-ty, O! I'm willing to labour, I'm willing to toil, For Fortune will ever on industry smile: pi-ty the poor peasant the boy! But, ah! not a creature will deign to employ A wand'rer like Edmund, the poor peasant boy. Then pity, O! pity! the poor peasant boy. |