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DUETS, GLEES, &c.

ve crowned the day,

hounds are waiting for their prey;

e huntsman's call

vites ye all,

e in boys while ye may.

he jolly horn,

he rosy morn,

harmony of deep mouth'd hounds; hese-these my boys,

re sportsmen's joys,

pleasure knows no bounds.

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HE MESSENGER BIRD.-A DUET

t come from the spirit's land, thou bird; art come from the spirit's land,

the dark pine grove let thy voice be heard, ll of the shadowy band.

that the bowers are green and fair,

light of that summer shore,

now that the friends we've lost are there,

re there, and they weep no more.

as thou bird of the solemn strain,

ose who have lov'd forget?

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DUETS, GLEES, &c.

We call them far through the silent night,
And they speak not from cave nor hill,
We know, thou bird! that their land is bright,
But, oh! say, do they love there still?

SEE OUR OARS.-
-A GLEE.

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.

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SLEEP GENTLE LADY.-A SERENADE.
SLEEP, gentle lady, flowers are closing,
The very winds and waves reposing,
O, 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. -A DUET.

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'lt see,
There he lives, and lives for thee.

T

Y

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.

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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.

CROWS IN A CORN-FIELD.-A GLEE.

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!'

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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.

6

All! all in vain you try old birds to catch with chaff
We're out of your shot, you stupid old sot

And at you and your gun we laugh, ha! ha!
Caw! caw! caw!

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DAME DURDEN.-A GLEE.

DAME Durden had five serving maids

To carry the milking pail;

She also had five laboring men,

To manage the spade and flail:

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DUETS, GLEES, &c.

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.

Durden in the morn so soon

e did begin to call,

Duse her serving men and maids

ost loudly she did bawl.

as on the morn of Valentine

e birds began to mate,

e Durden and her men and maids

mey all began to prate.

OVE'S RITORNELLA.-A DUET.

LE Zitella, whither away? ritornella, list while I play.

have lingered too long on my road, is advancing, the brigand's abroad! Zitella has too much to fear; ritornella she may not hear.

ing Zitella, why shouldst thou care, is not darker than thy raven hair! ose bright eyes if the brigand should see art the robber, the captive is he!

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