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GLEE for Three Voices.

W. HORSLEY, M.B. On 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. Health

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.'.

Par 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.


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, beap 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 !

GLEE for Four Voices.



RÆStat 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.


GLEE for Five Voices.


Poculum elevatum,
Quod nobis est pergratum ;
Poculum elevatissimum;
Quod nobis est pergratissimum ;
Bibe, totum extra,
Nil manet intra.
Hoc est bonum in visceribus meis,
Hoc est bonum in visceribus tuis;
Et nos consequimur laudes tuas.
O Quam bonum est !
O Quam jucundum est !
Poculis fraternis gaudere.

GLEE for Five Voices.

Pack clouds away,

And welcome day,
With night we banish sorrow;

Sweet air, blow soft,

Larks, mount aloft,
To give my love good-morrow.

Wings from the wind

To please her mind,
Notes from the lark I'll borrow;

Bird, prune thy wing,

Nightingale, sing,
To give my love good-morrow!
Notes from them both I'll borrow.

Wake from thy nest,

Robin red-breast,
Sing, birds, in ev'ry furrow;

And from each hill,

Let music shrill
Give my fair love good-morrow !

Blackbird and thrush,

In ev'ry bush,
Linnet, and cock sparrow;

You pretty elves,

Among yourselves,
To give my love good-morrow,
Sing, birds, in ev'ry furrow.


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