IS THY HEART WITH ME. The Poetry by G. J. De Wilde.--Arranged expressly for this Work to an Air by Auber. Is thy heart with me? Hal- low-eth all to thee, Maid-en, loving maid-en, We shall never, maiden, Love to thee, dear maiden, Bringing not its lighter joys, Thy young life hath not o'erdarken'd It hath cast a twilight over The bright places of thy heart, Yet its deep recesses Lighting ev'ry part. Andante. By the autumn-tinted vine, Sing again sweet songs, love-laden, SWEET ELLEN, THE MAID OF THE MILL. O, sweet is the blos-som that hangs on the tree, And its fra-grance is far sweeter still; But sweeter's the voice of my charm -er to me- Of El-len, sweet El-len, the maid of the mill. How often, de-light - ed, I've gaz'd on her charms, As we've walk'd by the neigh-b'ring rill; May those beau-ties long rest in my fond cir-cling arms! 0, El-len, sweet El-len! the maid of the mill. Thus the sor-rows of time will quick-ly pass o'er, While with plea-sure we life's chalice fill; For, bless'd with thy beau- ties, what heart can wish more? O, El len, sweet El-len, the maid of the mill ! O sadly, ye dark roll-ing waves of the ocean, O sadly ye beat on this de -so- late shore, And wake, with the voice of your rest-less commo-tion, Sad thoughts of the Fire. home I must visit no more, Sad thoughts of the home I must vis - it no more. From the far dis-tant land which has spurn'd me for ev-er, The land for whose glory I've strug-gled in vain, Ye come, O ye winds! but, like me, ye can never, O never re Allegro. THE JOLLY RINGERS. Composed by Charles Dibdin. Oft has the world been well de fin'd By say-ers and by singers: I call 't a bel - fry, And man-kind I call the jolly ring -ers;-Through major bobs and triple bobs Each em- u-lously ran - ges; And, while each anxious bo-som throbs, All These College youths are sent to school, And afterwards to College; And thence return by square and rule, Well vers'd in worthy knowledge. As genius leads, to cram his maw, Each art's close lab'rinth ranges, And on religion, physic, law, Completely rings the changes. The fortune-hunter swears and lies, A titled heir succeeds to him, And thus she rings the changes. The waiter pillages the Greek, The Greek the spendthrift fleeces, The spendthrift makes dad's fortune squeak, Till, pro and con, through all the courts, Thus, like the bells, each fear and hope DIOGENES SURLY AND PROUD. Vivace. Di-o-ge-nes sur-ly and proud, Who snarl'd at the Mace-don youth, De-light- ed in wine that was good, Be-cause in good wine there is truth; But, grow-ing as poor as 8 Job, And unable to purchase a flask, He chose for his man-sion a liv'd by the scent of his ca tub, And sk, And liv'd by the scent of his cask. PLENTY OF LOVE. The Music by C.J. Hess; the Poetry from the Translation of Beranger's Songs published by W. Pickering. Moderato. In spite of wis-dom's warn- ing voice, I'd fain a mass a golden store; Straight to the mis-tress of my choice I'd give it all, and search for more. Still, Harriet, still, Harriet, should thy least ca - price, O-bey'd each day, my du-ty prove; 'Tis I'm free from a va rice- But not from love!-O! not from love! And, if to consecrate her fame My lays were worthily inspir'd, They should preserve my Harriet's name, And last for ages, still admir'd ; So our two names, united, down The rolling stream of time would move ; I look not, burn not, for renown, But, O! I burn with love, with love! Would that the gods would make me great, Bestow a throne, and crown me king, To Harriet I would yield my state, Mv throne, my crown, my every-thing. To please her, I would e'en endure But why those vain desires allow My heart from its repose to stir? And Fate's reverses far above, Vivace. THE FRIENDS. In wine there is all in this life we can name: It strengthens our friend-ship, and love lights the flame: Though life is but short, and at best live all our days, and may this be the plan: To drink, my dear boys, and to drive a-way sor-row, Let cash but hold out, and we'll ne'er ask to borrow; Though paupers to-night, we'll be rich rogues to mor-row, be rich rogues to-mor-row, be rich rogues to- mor-row; Though paupers to-night, we'll be rich rogues to-mor-row. In a neat country village, yet not far from town, Our dishes well chosen, and nice in their sort, A jolly brisk chaplain that can well grace the table, Then stagger, enlighten'd, quite happy, to bed. prove To his honour most true, and sincere to his love, And just as we've liv'd may we close the last scene, PADDY'S BALLOON. A-fri-ca's coast have ex board. While tied to a bladder of smoke, sir, The hem-isphere round you may sail; You'll do, doo der roo, doo - der roo, doo - der roo do.' |