Moderato. f ZEKIEL HOMESPUN'S TRIP TO TOWN. Published by Preston. I'ze a poor coun-try lad, as you see by my dress: That I'ze York-shire, mayhap, you may pretty well guess; My name's Zekiel Homespun,-you all know me now; It is lol de rol lol, de rol lol, de rol lol. Were two gentlemen dress'd, to be sure, mortal queer: not the first time I have here made my bow. Tol 'Twas a very fine tragedy, call'd 'Tommy Thumb.' Says one,-To the king this petition I'll shew;' To whom the petition was presently shown; So thinks I to myself, an' that's what you're about, WHEN TIME STEALS OUR YEARS AWAY. When Time, who steals our years a- way, Shall steal our plea-sures too, The mem'-ry of the past will stay, And half our joys re-new. Then, Chlo-e, when thy beau-ty's flow'r Shall feel the win-try air, Re-mem-brance will re- cal the hour When future gloom, Our joys shall always For hope shall brighten days to come, And mem'-ry gild the past. Come, Chloe, fill the genial bowl I drink to love and thee! Thou'lt still be young for me. Then fill the bowl! away with gloom! For hope shall brighten days to come, But mark, at thought of future years, My Chloe drops her timid tears- How like this bowl of wine, my fair, Tho' tears may sometimes mingle there, cup, &c WHEN BLUST'RING WINDS ARE HEARD TO BLOW. low, When thun-der rat-tles in the sky, And fierce the nim-ble - light'-nings fly, WHEN FLOW'RS AGAIN THEIR DAY-LIGHT BLOOM. Music by Steibelt; Poetry by J. A. Wade. Grazioso. When flow'rs a-gain their day-light bloom, Close in dew-y sleep; When moon-light shows the dis-tant dome, Glanc-ing o'er the deep; When scarce is heard the ev'- ning fann'd it o'er: Then Love will row my bark a-long, O'er the star-ry sea; And He comes from the wars, from the red field of fight,-He comes thro' the storm and the dark-ness of night: For rest and for re-fuge now fain to im-plore, The war-rior bends low at the cottager's door : Pale, pale, pale is his cheek, there's a gash on his brow! His locks o'er his shoul-ders distract-edly flow! And the MY MOTHER BIDS ME BIND MY HAIR. Allegretto. bind my hair With bands of ro sy hue, Tie up my sleeves with rib-bons rare, And lace my bod-dice blue; Tie up my sleeves with ribbons rare, And lace, and lace my bod - dice blue. 'For why,' she cries, sit still and weep, While others dance and play?' A-las! I scarce can I scarce can go or creep, While Lubin is a way! 'Tis sad to think the days are gone, When those we love were near: I sit upon this mossy stone, And sigh when none can hear: a-way, is a-way I a-way, is And while I spin my flaxen thread, And sing my simple lay, The village seems asleep or dead, Now Lubin is away. |