SWEET thrush! that makes the vernal year
Sweeter than Flora can appear;
As Philomel attends thy lay,
She envies the return of day.
The tuneful lyre and swelling flute,
At thy rich warbling shall be mute;
Vocal Minstrel! thy soft lay
Treasures up, and ends the May;
Hark! how the blackbird woos his love,
The skill'd musician of the grove ;
On thorn, as perch'd, he nobly sings,
A cadence for the best of kings;
Sublime and soft, gay and serene,
A virginal to hail a queen :
Nature's music thus improves,
All the graces and the loves.
SURLY Giles's old cat was shut out of the house;
How she plagu'd him all night,without catching a mouse!
With her mew, sick to death, surly Giles rose in haste,
And vow'd that no longer his moments he'd waste;
So he took up a stick, as he jump'd out of bed,
And swore he would knock the old cat o'the head.
Dr. Callcott.
SWEET Echo! sleeps thy vocal shell,
Where the high arch o'erhangs the dell ;
Where Tweed, with sun reflecting streams,
Chequers thy rocks with dancing beams?
Here may no clamours harsh intrude,
No brawling hound or clarion rude;
Here no fell beast at midnight prowl,
And teach thy tortured cliffs to howl.
Be thine to pour these vales among
Some artless shepherd's ev'ning song,
Whilst night's sad bird, on some lone spray,
Responsive listens to thy lay.
Or if, like me, some love-lorn maid,
Should sing her sorrows to the shade,
Oh! soothe her breast, ye rocks around,
With softest sympathy of sound.
STAY, shepherd, stay! I prithee stay!
Did not you see her go this way?
Where can she be! can you not guess!
Alas! I've lost my shepherdess !
I fear some satyr has betray'd,
My wand'ring nymph out of the shade;
Oh! woe is me! I am undone,
For, in the shade, she was my sun.
The pink, the violet, and the rose,
Strive to salute her as she goes;
Nay, be content to kiss her shoe,
The primrose, and the daisie too.
Oh! woe is me! what must I do?
Or whom must I complain unto?
Methinks the vallies cry, forbear,
And sighing say, she is not here..
*Oh! what shall I, unhappy, do?
Or whom must I complain unto?
Where may she be, can you not guess,
Where I may find my shepherdess?
This Verse not in the Glee.
GLEE for Three Voices.
R. SPOFFORTH.-Prize, 1793.
SEE, Smiling from the rosy east,
The harbinger of day
Pours, with majestic lustre dress'd,
The treasures of his ray:
No more her charms Aurora shrouds
Behind the sullen veil of clouds;
But sheds profuse her animating pow'rs,
And from their wint'ry sleep, awakes the flow'rs.
MADRIGAL for Five Voices.
JOHN WILBYE.-1609.
SWEET honey sucking bees! why do you still
Surfeit on roses, pinks, and violets?
As if the choicest nectar lay in them
Wherewith ye store your curious cabinets.
Ah! make your flight to Mellisuavia's lip,
There may ye revel in ambrosian cheer;
Where smiling roses and sweet lilies sit,
Keeping their spring-tide graces all the year.
Yet, sweet, take heed! all sweets are hard to get,
Sting not her soft lips; O beware of that!
For if one flaming dart comes from her eye,
Was never dart so sharp; ab, then you die!
SWEET stream, that winds thro' yonder glade,
Apt emblem of a virtuous maid;
Silent and pure she glides along,
Far from the world's gay busy throng:
With gentle yet prevailing force,
Intent upon her destin'd course;
Graces attend on all she does,
Blessing and blest where'er she goes.
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