CUPID AND CAMPAS PE.
GLEE for Five Voices.

R. J. S. STEVENS.

CUPID and my Campaspe* play'd
At cardes for kisses; Cupid pay'd:
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
His mother's doves, and teame of sparrows;
Looses them too: then down he throws
The coral of his lippe, the rose

Growing on's cheek, (but none knows how)
With these, the chrystal of his browe,
And then the dimple of his chinne ;
All these did my Campaspe winne.
At last he set her both his eyes;
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O Love! has she done this to thee?
What shall, alas! become of me.

John Lilye, in the time of
Queen Elizabeth.

MADRIGAL for Three Voices.

BUONONCINI

CHI mai d'iniqua Stella

Provò tenor più rio ;

Che vide mai, del mio
Più tormentato cor.
Tradito son da quella
Che fu la prima, oh Dio!
Da ch'imparò il cor mio.

A sospirar d'amor.

* The word Miranda, substituted for Campaspe in the Glee.

MADRIGAL for Three Voices.

WILBYE.-1609.

COME, shepherd swains, that wont to hear me sing,

Now sigh and groan,

Dead is my love, my hope, my joy, my spring;

O she that was your summer's queen,

Your day's delight,

Is gone,

and will no more be seen.

Oh! cruel spight,

Break all your pipes, that wont to sound

With pleasant cheer,

And cast yourselves upon the ground

To wail my dear.

Come shepherd swains, come nymphs, and all around,

To help me cry,

Dead is my love, and, seeing she is so,

Lo! now I die!

MADRIGAL for Four Voices.

J. BENNETT.-1590.

COME, shepherds, follow me,

Run up apace the mountain,

See, lo! beside the fountain,

Love laid to rest, how sweetly sleepeth he.

Oh take heed, come not nigh him,

But haste we hence, and fly him!

And lovers, dance with gladness,

For while love sleeps, it's truce with care and sadness.

MADRIGAL for Five Voices.

GIOVANNI CROCE.-1560.

CYNTHIA! thy song and chaunting,

So strange a flame in gentle hearts awaketh,
That ev'ry cold desire, wanton love maketh,
Sounds to thy praise and vaunting.

Of syrens most commended,

That with delightful tunes for praise contended ;
For when thou sweetly soundest,

Thou neither kill'st nor woundest,

But dost revive a number

Of bodies buried in perpetual slumber.

ANCIENT ANTIPATHY.

GLEE for Four Voices.

R. J. S. STEVENS.

CRABBED age and youth cannot live together, Youth is full of pleasure, age is full of care; Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather; Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare.

Age I do abhor thee, youth I do adore thee;
O! my love, my love is young;

Age I do defy thee, O! sweet shepherd hie thee;
For, methinks thou stay'st too long.

Shakspeare.

GLEE for Four Voices.

COME, ye party jangling swains,

Leave your flocks, and quit the plains;
Friends to country, friends to court,
Nothing here shall spoil your sport :
Ever welcome to our feast,
Welcome ev'ry friendly guest.

Sprightly widows, come away,
Laughing dames, and virgins gay;
Little gaudy, flutt'ring misses,
Smiling hopes of future blisses:
Ever welcome to our feast,
Welcome ev'ry friendly guest.

All that rip'ning sun can bring,
Beauteous summer, beauteous spring,
In one varying scene we show,
The green, the ripe, the bud, the blow:
Ever welcome to our feast,

Welcome ev'ry friendly guest.

Comus jesting, music charming,
Wine inspiring, beauty warming;
Rage and party malice dies,
Peace returns, and discord flies:
Ever welcome to our feast,
Welcome ev'ry friendly guest.

DANBY.

GLEE for Four Voices.

CANS'T thou love and live alone,

Love is so disgraced;

Pleasure is best when it can rest,

In a heart embraced.

Rise, rise, day-light, do not burn out;
Bells now ring,

And birds do sing,

'Tis only I that mourn out.

Morning star doth now appear,

Wind is hush'd, and sky is clear:
Come away, come, come away,

Can'st thou love? then burn out day.

RAVENSCROFt.

Rise, rise, &c.

ODE TO ST. CECILIA.

For Six Voices.

S. WEBBE, Jun.

CECILIA more than all the muses skill'd,

Phoebus himself must to her yield;

And at her feet lay down

His golden harp, and laurel crown:
The soft enervate lyre is drown'd

In the deep organ's more majestic sound;
In peals the swelling notes ascend the skies,
Perpetual breath the swelling notes supplies:
And lasting as her name,

Who form'd the tuneful frame,

Th' immortal music never dies.