My Phillida, adieu! love, for evermore farewell!
Ah, me! I've lost my true love, and thus I ring his knell:
Ding dong, ding dong, my Phillida is dead,
I'll stick a branch of willow at my fair Phillis' head.

A garland shall be fram'd by art and nature's skill, Of sundry colour'd flow'rs, in token of good-will; Instead of fairest flow'rs, set forth with curious art, Her image shall be painted on my distressed heart. Ding dong, &c.

Shakspeare.

THE WISH.

GLEE for Four Voices.

MINE be a cot, beside a hill,

W. HORSLEY, M.B.

A bee-hive's hum shall sooth my ear; A willowy brook that turns a mill,

With many a fall shall linger near.

The swallow oft beneath my thatch,
Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;
Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,

And share my meal, a welcome guest.

Around my ivy'd porch shall spring,

Each fragrant flow'r that drinks the dew;
And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing,
In russet gown and apron blue.

The village church, among the trees,
Where first our marriage vows were giv'n ;
With merry peal shall swell the breeze,
And point, with taper spire, to heav'n.

Rogers.

ODE I.

GLEE for Five Voices.

MONA on Snowdon calls;

Hear, thou king of mountains, hear!
Hark, she speaks from all her strings ;
Hark, the loudest echo rings;
King of mountains, bend thine ear:
Send thy spirits, send them soon;
Now when midnight, and the moon,
Meet upon the front of snow :

See, their gold and ebon rod,
Where the sober sisters nod,
And greet in whispers sage and slow.
Snowdon, mark! 'tis Magic's hour;
Now the mutter'd spell hath pow'r;
Pow'r to rend thy ribs of rock,

And burst thy base with thunder's shock;
But to thee, no ruder spell

Shall Mona use, than those that dwell

In music's secret cells, and lie,

Steep'd in streams of harmony.

Dr. CROTCH.

Mason's Caraclacus.

OBERON.

GLEE for Four Voices.

Earl of MORNINGTON.

MARK! mortals, mark! with awe profound,

What solemn stillness reigns around;

Know then, tho' strange it may appear,

Spirits, Spirits, inhabit here.

Whene'er we leave the circled green,

We fairies choose this shady scene;

Tho' mortal hands have form'd these bow'rs,
Yet is the sweet retirement our's:

For here, when as the pallid moon,

Riding at her highest noon,

Edging the clouds with silver white,

Darts thro' these shades a chequer'd light.
Here, when we cease our airy sport,
We range our band and form our court;
My royal throne exalted high,

Unseen by feeble mortal eye,

Tho' spangled with ten thousand dews,
Tho' colour'd with ten thousand hues.
Approach not with unhallow'd hands,
Beneath yon tall liburnum-stands;
Then enter here with guiltless mind,
Spurn each vile passion far behind.
Hence, Envy! with her pining train,
And venal love of sordid gain :

Hence! Malice, hence! rankling at the heart,

And dire Revenge with poison'd dart :

Hence, Lust! with sly uneven mien,
That thro' the twilight creeps unseen:
Hence, Vice! avoid this arching grove,
Pollution follows where you move :
Hence! nor near the spot be found;
Hence! avaunt! 'tis holy ground!

GLEE for Four Voices.

J. S. SMITH.

'MIDST silent shades and purling streams,

The God of Love supinely dreams;
In rosy and fantastic chains,

He leads deluded maids and swains.
But, if the trumpet's loud alarms

Call us to deeds of manly arms;

Rous'd from his downy bed he cuts the yielding air, Scar'd at the noble noise and thunder of the war.

GLEE for Three Voices.

Hughes.

R. J. S. STEVENS and R. SPOFFORTH.

MARK'D you her eye, of heav'nly blue!
Mark'd you her cheek, of roseate hue!
That eye, in liquid circles moving—
That cheek, abash'd at man's approving.—
The one love's arrows darting round-
The other blushing at the wound.

R. B. Sheridan.