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GLEE for Five Voices.

T. ATTWOOD. To all that breathe the air of heav'n, Some boon of strength has Nature giv'n ; When the majestic bull was born, She fenced his brow with wreathed horn, She arm'd the coursers foot of air, And wing’d, with speed, the panting hare. She gave the lion fangs of terror, And in the ocean's crystal mirror, Taught th' unnumber'd scaly throng, To trace the liquid paths along : While, for the umbrage of the grove, She plum'd the warbling world of love. To man she gave the flame refin'd, The spark of heav'n, a thinking mind; And had she no surpassing treasure, For thee, O woman! child of pleasure ? She gave thee beauty, shaft of eyes, That ev'ry shaft of war outfies : She gave thee beauty, blush of fire, That bids the flames of war retire. Woman, be fair! we must adore thee, Smile, and a world is weak before thee.

Moore's Anacreon.

GLEE for Four Voices.

Rr. Cooke. The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new,

And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears ; The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew,

And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears. O wilding rose! whom fancy thus endears,

I bid thy blossoms in my bonnet wave, Emblem of hope and love through future years.

Walter Scott, Esq.

GLEE for Four Voices.

S. PAXTON. Upon the poplar bough in mournful strains, For ber lost young sad Philomel complains ; Of which the hind, with unrelenting breast, As yet unfledg'd defrauds the tuneful nest : Near which she sits upon the lighten'd spray, Mournfully sad, and pours her soul away; Renewing still her lamentable song, While thro’ the woods and yales the murmurs die along.

Translated from Virgil.

GLEE for Three Voices.

J. BATTISHILL. UNDERNEATH this myrtle shade, On flow'ry beds supinely laid, With od’rous oils my head o'erflowing, And around it roses growing, What should I do but drink away The heat and troubles of the day? In this more than kingly state, Love, himself, shall on me wait. Fill to me, Love, nay fill it up; And, mingled, cast into the cup Wit, and mirth, and noble fires, Vig'rous health, and gay desires. Crown me with roses whilst I live, Now your wines and ointments give; After death I nothing crave, Let me alive my pleasures have, All are stoics in the grave.


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ROUND for Three Voices.

H. PURCELL. Under this stone lies Gabriel John, In the

year of our Lord one thousand and one ; Cover his head with turf or stone,

'Tis all one. Pray for the soul of gentle John, If you please you may, or let it alone,

'Tis all one.

GLEE for Four Voices.

Dr. Cooke. Up the hill, or cross the lawn,

Thro' the grove, or woodland shade ; In the eye, or at the dawn,

Strephon's love is still display'd.

Springing flower or warbling bird,

Still are emblems of her choice; Her breath is to the first prefer'd,

To the last her charming voice.


GLEE for Four Voices,

T. ATTWOOD. Virtue, my Emma, is a gem, The mind's pellucid diadem To fellow mortals kindly giv'n A foretaste and a type of heav'n. Pure and white as mountain's snow, That hurries to the vale below; Yet genial as the glorious sun, Which makes it unpolluted run. Yet as the mind disfigur'd grows, Her careless course discolour'd flows. So in the mind dark clouds arise, And God's emanant gifts disguise ; But virtue that hath taken root, Tears from the mind each wayward shoot ; And, like a stream, thro' flow'ry meads, Gives beauty to the bounds she feeds.

GLEE for Four Voices.

C. S. Evans. Vulcan contrive me such a cup,

As Nestor us’d of old ;
Try all your skill to trim it up,

And deck it round with gold.

Make it so large, that fill'd with sack,

Up to the sparkling brim ; Vast toasts on the delicious lake,

Like ships, at sea, may swim.

Carve me thereon a spreading vine,

Then add two lovely boys;
Their limbs in am'rous folds entwine,

The type of future joys.

Cupid and Bacchus my gods are,

May drink and love still reign
With wine I'll wash away my care,
And then to love again.

From Anacreon, by the Earl of
Rochester, taken from Ritson.

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