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DUETS, GLEES, &c.
AWAY! AWAY-A TRIO.
The huntsman's call
The jolly horn,
The rosy morn,
These-these my boys,
Are sportsmen's joys,
THE MESSENGER BİRD.-A DUET Thou art come from the spirit's land, thou bird;
Thou art come from the spirit's land,
And tell of the shadowy band.
In the light of that summer shore,
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 throngh the silent night,
And they speak not from caye nor hill,
But, oh! say, do they love there still?
SEE OUR OARS.-A GLEE.
SLEEP GENTLE LADY.-A SERENADE.
Love, my Mary, ne'er can roam,
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, &a Tho' a tear for prospects blighted,
May at times unbidden flow,
Sweet the hour, &c.
CROWS IN A CORN-FIELD.—A GLEE
Where waves the rip’ning grain,
Who flock'd the prize to gain.
A young crow light and gay
So careless, light and gay.
Two old crows, sage and gray,
I don't care!
-Oh! oh! oh!
See, he's loading his gun again,
'Tis all but labor in vain.
Caw! caw! caw!
DAME DURDEN.-A GLEE.
To carry the milking pail;
To manage the spade and flail:
There was Moll and Bet,
And Doll and Kate,
And Joe and Jack,
And Humphrey with his flail,
To carry the milking pail.
She did begin to call,
Come Moll and Bet, &c. 'Twas on the morn of Valentine
The birds began to mate,
'Twas Moli and Bet, &c.
LOVE'S RITORNELLA.-A DUET. 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!