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GLEE for Five Voices.

Rosy finger'd goddess rise,

Fair Aurora, mount the skies;
Leave, O leave, your chrystal bed,
Deck'd with coral beauteous red;
From each bush the feather'd choir,
Warbling sweet, new joys inspire;
Warbling sweet, each myrtle grove
Returns to meet the god of love:
Come then, shepherds, come away!
Come, ye damsels, fair and gay;
Release your herds and snowy sheep,
That they the pearly dew may sip :
More grateful to the thirsty flocks
Than to Narciss' his golden locks.
Come, ere Soi's effervent beams

Parch the fields, or heat the streams ;
Clad each in his best array,
We'll celebrate this holiday;
Dancing, music, cheerful song,
Shall the fleeting hours prolong.

J. DANBY.

GLEE for Four Voices.

W. HORSLEY, M.B.

RETIRE, my love, for it is night,

And the dark winds sigh in thy hair!

Retire, my love, retire to the hall of my feasts;

Cease a little while, O wind!

Stream, be thou silent awhile!

Let my steps be heard on the heath:
My love is fairer than the light,

More pleasant than the gale of the bill,

Which sighs on the hunter's ear.

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GLEE for Three Voices.

RISE to the battle, my thousands!

T. ATTWOOD.

Gather round the bright-steel of your king!

Strong as the rocks of my land,

That meet the storm with joy,

And stretch their dark woods to the wind.

GLEE for Five Voices.

SISTER of Phoebus, gentle queen,

Ossian.

S. WEBBE.

Of aspect mild, and ray serene,

Whose friendly beams by night appear,
The lonely traveller to cheer!

Attractive power! whose mighty sway
The ocean's swelling waves obey,
And, mounting upward, seem to raise,
A liquid altar to thy praise :

Thee, wither'd hags, at midnight hour,
Invoke to their inferual bow'r :
But I to no such horrid rite,

Sweet queen, implore thy sacred light;
Nor seek, while all but lovers sleep,
To rob the miser's treasur'd heap:
Thy kindly beams alone impart,
To find the youth who stole my heart,
And guide me from thy silver throne,
To steal his heart, or find my own.

Mrs. Peckard.

GLEE for Five Voices.

R. J. S. STEVENS.

SIGH no more, ladies, sigh no more,

Men were deceivers ever;

One foot in sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.

Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
To hey, nony, nony.

Sing no more ditties, ladies, sing no more,
Of dumps so dull and heavy;

The frauds of men were ever so,
Since summer first was leafy.

Then sigh not so, but let them go,

And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe

To hey, nony, nony.

Shakspeare.

GLEE for Four Voices.

SWEET Muse! inspire thy suppliant bard,

Heroic ardour to record.

In vain the fervent pray'r I move,
Hark! ev'ry echo whispers Love!
I'll raise the theme to acts renown'd-
Ah! no-'tis Love-no other sound!
Farewell then, Patriot-Hero-King!
My Muse of nought but love can sing.

Dr. ARNE.

From Anacreon.

GLEE for Four Voices.

S. WEBBE.-Prize, 1788.

SWIFTLY from the mountain's brow,
Shadows, nurs'd by night, retire!
And the peeping sun-beams now
Paint with gold the village spire.

Sweet, O sweet! the warbling throng
On the white emblossom'd spray;
Nature's universal song

Echoes to the rising day.

Cunningham.

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