The bride kiss'd the goblet, the knight took it up;
He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye;
He took her soft hand e'er her mother could bar,
Now tread we a measure said young Lochinvar ;

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace.

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume :

And the bride-maidens whisper'd 'twere better by far, To have match'd our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall door and the charger stood

near,

So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,

So light in the saddle before her he sprung.

She is won; we are gone, over bank, bush, and scour, They'll have fleet steeds that follow quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong grooms of the Netherby

clan,

Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they

ran;

There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lea,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and dauntless in war,

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar.

MADRIGAL for Three Voices.

WILBYE.-1598.

YE restless thoughts that harbour discontent,
Cease your assaults, and let my heart lament,
And let my tongue have leave to tell my grief,
That she may pity, tho' not grant relief;
Pity would help what love has almost slain,
And heal the wound that fester'd this disdain.

GLEE for Three Voices.

YET stay, fair lady, turn again,

And dry those pearly tears,
For see beneath this gown of gray,
Thy own true love appears;

Here forc'd by grief and hopeless love,
These holy weeds I sought,
And here amidst these lonely walls,
To end my days I thought.

But hap❜ly, for my year of grace,

Is not yet pass'd away,

Might I still hope to win thy love,

No longer would I stay.

Now farewell grief and welcome joy,

Once more unto my heart,

Dr. CALLCOTT.

For since I have found thee, lovely youth,

We never more will part.

Dr. Percy.

GLEE for Four Voices.

YE visions wild, Hope's fairy train!

That o'er my bosom rove; Your soft dominion still retain, And murmur tales of love.

Still hush to rest the heaving sigh,
Still fondly wipe the tear,
With dear delusion soothe the eye,
And chase the frowns of fear.

With balmy touch revive the bloom
Of Fancy's wither'd wreath,
Bid each frail flow'r its tint resume,
And fresher incense breathe.

T. ATTWOOD.

Blest hope! ah, whence thus fluttering, say,

By thee I feel restor❜d;

My bosom owns thy genial sway,

And heaves to greet its lord.

Dimond.

GLEE for Three Voices.

Dr. ARNE.

You ask me, dear Jack, for an emblem that's rife,

And clearly explains the true medium of life:
I think I have hit it, as sure as a gun,

A bowl of good punch and the medium are one.
When lemon and sugar so happily meet,
The acid's corrected by mixing the sweet;
The water and spirit so luckily blend,

That each from th' extreme doth the other defend.
Then fill up the bowl, rot sorrow and strife,

A bumper! my boys, to the medium of life:
Which keeps our frail state in a temper that's meet,
Contented in blending the sour with the sweet.

Dr. Arne.

GLEE for Five Voices.

J. DANBY.

YE vales and woods, fair scenes of happier hours!

Ye feather'd choir, sweet tenants of the grove; And you, bright streams,befring'd with shrubs and flow'rs, Ah! see my grief ye witnesses of love.

For ye beheld my infant passion rise,

And saw, thro' years unchang'd, my faithful flame; Now cold in dust the beauteous object lies,

And you, ye conscious scenes, are still the same. While busy mem'ry still delights to dwell,

On all those charms these bitter tears deplore; And with a trembling hand describes too well, This angel form I can behold no more.

GLEE for Four Voices.

R. J. S. STEVENS.

YE spotted snakes with double tongue,

Thorny hedge-hogs be not seen ;
Newts and blind worms do no wrong,
Come not near our fairy queen.

Philomel with melody,

Sing in your sweet lullaby,
Lulla, lulla, lullaby.

Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh;
So good night, with lullaby,
Lulla, lulla, lullaby.

Weaving spiders come not nere,

Hence! ye long-legg'd spinners, hence!

Beetles black approach not near,

Worm and snail do no offence.
Philomel, with melody,

Sing in your sweet lullaby,
Lulla, lulla, lullaby.

Never harm, nor spell, nor charm,
Come our lovely lady nigh,

So good night with lullaby,
Lulla, lulla, lullaby.

Shakspeare.