Dr. COOKE.

GLEE for Four Voices.

SACRED friendship! heav'n's delight! Who, tir'd with man's unequal mind; Took to thy native skies thy flight,

Where scarce thy shadow's left behind.
From thee, diffusive good below,

Peace, and her train of joys, we trace;
But falsehood, with dissembled show,
Too oft usurps thy sacred place.
Blest genius! then resume thy seat,
Destroy imposture and deceit,

Which in thy dress confound the ball;
Harmonious peace and truth renew,
Shew the false friendship from the true,
Or nature must to chaos fall.

GLEE for Five Voices.

OH! sweetest of thy lovely race,

Unveil thy matchless charms;

Let me adore that angel face

And fold thee in my arms; Thy bosom let my tortures move, To grant the just returns of love.

S. WEBBE.

GLEE for Three Voices.

OH! happy we,

Attune to harmony,

Dr. CALLCOTT.

That with heart, hand, and voice,

Thus united rejoice:

Say, does the star from heav'n dropping,

Or the wind, the pale rose cropping,
Figure right the quick decline

Of thy heart's friendship unto mine ?

Ah, no! no! no!

As violets blow,

Still fresh, and still pure

Shall our friendship endure;

Nor shall the star from heav'n dropping,
Or the wind, the pale rose cropping,
Figure right the quick decline

Of thy heart's friendship unto mine.

GLEE for Four Voices.

O YOUTH, thou morning of delight,

Dr. CALLCOTT.

Thy streams are clear, thy skies are bright,

And all thy scenes are gay;

But soon thy sportive hours are gone,

And mortals find, they but forerun

Age, life's succeeding day.

Youth, let me then, whil'st yet I'm thine,

Thy pleasures all enjoy,

Ere age's many frailties join

The blessings to destroy.

But yet for me the hills, and ev'ry vale, shall loudly cry.

Fountains shall weep for me,

Hoarse winds to ev'ry tree,
Shall tell my mournful tale.

And in my cheek, all pale,

Shall grief and pity speak ;

And, should all other things be mute,

My hapless end shall speak

My death, shall tell thee thou my heart didst break.

Gaurini's Pastor Fido.

GLEE for Four Voices.

J. S. SMITH.

PAN! delight of nymphs and swains,

Protector of Arcadian plains,

Who lead'st the frolic dance;

The laughing fair, who play the prude,
But fly from thee to be pursu'd,

Their favors to enhance.

They love thy rustic oaten reed,
They know thy vigor, force, and speed,
And feign a modest fear;

Our jocund strains shall swell for thee,
And render, by their mirth and glee,
Thy name for ever dear.

GLEE for Three Voices.

WM. HAWES.

OH happy Albion! blest beyond compare,

Think, grateful think, what blessings now you share!

Tho' discord raging thro' a jarring world,
Bids war's red banners still remain unfurl'd,

Yet in the precincts of this sea-girt isle,
Domestic peace, and tranquil pleasures smile.

Miss Frances-From the Poem of the
Rival Roses.

MADRIGAL for Four Voices.

Adapted to the Music of HUBERTO WAELRENT, 1590.

O'ER desert plains and rushy meers,

And wither'd heaths I rove;

Where tree, nor spire, nor cot appears,
I pass to meet my love.

But though my path were damask'd o'er
With beauties e'er so fine,

My busy thoughts would fly before,

To fix alone on thine.

No fir-crown'd hills could give delight,

No palace please mine eye;

No pyramid's aërial height,

Where mould'ring monarchs lie.

Unmov'd, should eastern kings advance,

Could I the pageant see?

Splendour might catch one scornful glance,

Not steal a thought from thee.

Shenstone.