No more a rover,
Or hapless lover,

Those cares are over,
My cup runs low;

Then for this reason,

And for a season,

Let us be merry

before we go.

Rt. Hon. J. P. Curran.

GLEE for Three Voices.

IRELAND.-Prize, 1772.

JOLLY Bacchus! hear my pray'r!
Vengeance on th' ungrateful fair!
In thy smiling cordial bowl,
Drown all the sorrows of my soul;
Jolly Bacchus! save! oh save!
From the deep devouring grave,
A poor despairing, sighing swain.

Haste, haste away,

Lash thy tigers, do not stay,
I'm undone if thou delay.

If I view those eyes once more,

I still shall love, and still adore,

And be more wretched than before.

Somerville.

DUET.

TRAVERS.

I, my dear, was born to-day,

So all my jolly comrades say;

They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth,

And ask to celebrate my birth.

Little, alas! my comrades know,
That I was born to pain and woe;
To thy denial, to thy scorn,
Better I had ne'er been born:
I wish to die, ev'n whilst I say,
1, my dear, was born to-day.

I, my dear, was born to-day,
Shall I salute the rising ray?
Well-spring of all my joy and woe,
Clotilda, thou alone dost know.
Shall the wreath surround my hair,
Or shall the music please my ear?
Shall I, my comrades, mirth receive,
And bless my birth and wish to live?
Then let me see great Venus chase,
Imperious anger from thy face:
Then let me hear thee smiling say,
Thou, my dear, wert born to-day.

Matt. Prior.

THE VANITY OF RICHES.

GLEE for Three Voices,

Ir the treasur'd gold could give

Man a longer time to live,

MAZZINGHI..

I'd employ my utmost care

Still to keep, and still to spare ;

And, when death approach'd, would say, "Take thy fee, and walk away."

But since riches cannot save
. Mortals from the gloomy grave,
Why should I myself deceive,
Vainly sigh, and vainly grieve?
Death will surely be my lot,
Whether I am rich, or not.

Give me freely while I live
Generous wines, in plenty give,
Soothing joys my life to cheer,
Beauty kind, and friends sincere ;
Happy! could I ever find

Friends sincere, and beauty kind.

From Anacreon