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He calls my Daphne to the grove.

The primrose sweet bedecks the field, The tuneful birds invite to rove ;

To softer joys let splendor yield,

O listen to the voice of love!

Where flowers their blooming sweets exhale,
My Daphne let us fondly stray;

Where whispering love breathes forth his tale,
And shepherds sing their artless lay.

Come share with me the sweets of spring,
And leave the town's tumultuous noise;
The happy swains all cheerful sing,
And echo still repeats their joys.

Mrs. Hook.

GLEE for Three Voices.

W. HORSLEY, M.B. Os the high towering poplar thus swinging,

My lyre hung suspended at ease;
Thy strings at wild intervals ringing,
When swept by the breath of the breeze.

The blue vaults its full beauty displaying,
Not a cloud the pure æther o'er shades,
And in sighs his soft wishes betraying,
The green foliage fond zephyr invades.

Thus I leave thee to murmur and quiver,
As whispers the slow rising wind ;
While here stretch'd on the banks of the river,

I repose in soft slumbers reclin'd.

From the Latin of Casimir Sobieski, by Mr. Heald

GLEE for Three Voices.

Dr. CALLCOTT.

O SHARE my cottage, dearest maid,
Beneath a mountain, wild and high;

It nestles in a secret glade,

And Wye's clear current wanders by. ́

Far from the city's vain parade,

No scornful brow shall here be seen;

No dull impertinence invade,

No envy base, nor sullen spleen.

The shadowy rocks which circle round,
From storms shall guard our silvan cell;

And there shall every joy be found,
That loves in peaceful vales to dwell.

GLEE for Five Voices.

S. Webbe.

PRETTY warbler, cease to hover,

Pretty warbler, help a lover;
From thy joy a moment borrow,
Tune thy music to my sorrow:

Join and answer when I mourn.
To grieve alone is most tormenting;
There's a pleasure in lamenting
My complaint, if you return.

GLEE for Three Voices.

PRITHEE, friend, fill t'other pipe,
Fie! for shame! don't let us part;
Just when wit is brisk and ripe,

Rais'd by wine's all-powerful art.
None but fools would thus retire
To their drowsy sleepy bed;
Drawer, heap with coals the fire,
Bring us t'other flask of red.
Foot to foot then let us drink,

Till things double to our view,
Pleasure then 'twill be to think,
One full bumper looks like two :
Fill, my friend, then fill your glass,
Why should we at cares repine?
Misery crowns the sober ass,
Happiness, the man of wine!

BAILDON.

GLEE for Four Voices.

J. DANBY.

PRESTAT Bibere ad sanitatem,

Quam colere pulchritudinem :

Nam bibendo, quiescit animus

Sed amando, sit inquietas.

GLEE for Three Voices.

Dr. CALLCOTT, M.B.

PEACE to the souls of the heroes,
Their deeds were great in fight;
Let them ride around me on clouds,
Let them shew their features in war;
My soul then shall be firm in danger,
And mine arm like the thunder of heav'n :
But be thou on a moon-beam, O Morna,
Near the window of my rest,

When my thoughts are of peace,

When the din of arms is past.

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