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AWAY! away!
We've crowned the day,
The hounds are waiting for their prey;

The huntsman's call

Invites ye all,
Come in boys while ye may.

The jolly horn,

The rosy morn,
With harmony of deep mouth'd hounds;

These—these my boys,

Are sportsmen's joys,
Our pleasure knows no bounds.

THE MESSENGER BÍRD.-A DUET. Thou art come from the spirit's land, thou bird;

Thou art come from the spirit's land,
Through the dark pine grove let thy voice be heard,

And tell of the shadowy band.
We know that the bowers are green and fair,

In the light of that summer shore,
And we know that the friends we've lost are there,

They are there, and they weep no more. But tell us thou bird of the solemn strain,

Can those who have lov'd forget? We call and they answer not again,

Oh! say do they love us yet?

We call them far through the silent night,

And they speak not from caye nor hill,
We know, thou bird! that their land is bright,

But, oh! say, do they love there still?

SEE our oars with feather'd spray,
Sparkle in the beam of day,
In our little bark we glide,
Swiftly o’er the silent tide;
From yonder lone and rocky shore,
The warrior hermit to restore;
And sweet the morning breezes blow,
While thus in measured time we row.


SLEEP, gentle lady, flowers are closing,
The very winds and waves reposing,
0, let our soft and soothing numbers
Wrap thee in sweeter, softer slumbers!
Peace be around thee, lady bright,
Sleep while we sing-good night, good night!

LOVE, my Mary, dwells with thee,
On thy cheek his bed I see;
No, that cheek is pale with care,
Love can find no roses there;
No, no, no, no, no, no,
No roses there, no, no.
'Tis not on the cheek of rose,
Love can find the best repose;
In my heart his home thou'!t see,
There he lives, and lives for thee..

Love, my Mary, ne'er can roam,
While he makes that eye his home,
No, the eye with sorrow dim,
Ne'er can be a home for him;
Ne'er can be, no, no, no,
A home for him, no, no.
Yet 'tis not in beaming eyes,
Love forever warmest lies;
In my heart his home thou'lt see;
There he lives, and lives for thee.

SWEET THE HOUR.-A CHORUS. SWEET the hour when freed from labor,

Lads and lasses thus convene; To the merry pipe and tabor, Dancing gaily on the green,

Sweet the hour, &c.

Nymphs with all their native graces,

Swains with every charm to win; Sprightly steps and smiling faces, Tell of happy hearts within.

Sweet the hour, &c. Blest with plenty, here the Farmer,

Toils for those he loves alone; While some pretty smiling charmer, Like the land is all his own.

Sweet the hour, &e Tho' a tear for prospects blighted,

May at times unbidden flow,
Yet the heart will bound delighted,
Where such kindred bosoms glow.

Sweet the hour, &c.

SEE yonder corn-field,

Where waves the rip’ning grain,
The feather'd race alluring,

Who flock'd the prize to gain.
Now careless hopping, flying,

A young crow light and gay
So careless, light and gay he hops,

So careless, light and gay.
While cautious peeping, prying,

Two old crows, sage and gray,
A man and gun espying,
With timely warning say,
Don't go there!

Why not?'
- You'll be shot!'

I don't care!'

“Oh! oh! oh!
We told you so!
Caw! caw! caw! says the scout, look out!

See, he's loading his gun again,
We smell powder my lad, we're not to be had,

'Tis all but labor in vain.
All! all in vain you try old birds to catch with chaft,
We're out of your shot, you stupid old sot
And at you and your gun we laugh, ha! ha!

Caw! caw! caw!


DAME Durden had five serving maids

To carry the milking pail;
She also had five laboring men,

To manage the spade and flail:

There was Moll and Bet,

And Doll and Kate,
And Dorothy with a pail;

And Joe and Jack,

And Tom and Dick,
And Humphrey with his flail;
Now Joe kiss'd' Molly,
And Jack kiss'd Betty,
And Tom kiss'd Dolly,
And Dick kiss'd Kitty,

And Humphrey with his flail,
And Kitty she was a charming girl,

To carry the milking pail.
Dame Durden in the morn so soon

She did begin to call,
To rouse her serving men and maids
Most loudly she did bawl.

Come Moll and Bet, &c.
'Twas on the morn of Valentine

The birds began to mate,
Dame Durden and her men and maids
They all began to prate.

'Twas Moli and Bet, &c.


LOVE'S RITORNELLA.GENTLE Zitella, whither away? *Love's ritornella, list while I play. No, I have lingered too long on my road, Night is advancing, the brigand's abroad! Lonely Zitella has too much to fear; Love's ritornella she may not hear. Charming Zitella, why shouldst thou care, Night is not darker than thy raven hair! And those bright eyes if the brigand should see Thou art the robber, the captive is he!

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