ページの画像
PDF
ePub

THE OLD SEXTON.

The Poetry by Park Benjamin; the Music by Henry Russell.-Published in Davidson's Cheap and Uniform Edition of his Compositions.

Quasi Allegro.

Nigh to a grave that was new-ly made Lean'd a Sexton old, on his earth-worn

spade; His work was done, and he paus'd to wait

The fun' ral train through the

o - pen gate: A re-lic of by-gone days was he, And his locks were white as the

foamy sea; And these words came from his lips

so thin: 'I gather them in,

gather,

gather,

gather them in,- gather,
'I gather them in! For man and boy,
Year after year of grief and joy,
I've builded the houses that lie around,
In every nook of the burial-ground:
Mother and daughter-father and son,
Come to my solitude one by one;

But come they strangers, or come they kin,
I gather them in-I gather them in.'
I gather them in, &c.

'Many are with me--but still I'm alone:
I'm king of the dead, and I make my throne
On a monument slab of marble cold,
And my sceptre of rule is the spade I hold.

[blocks in formation]

Come they from cottage or come they from hall,
Mankind are my subjects, all, all, all;
Let them toil in pleasure or oilfully spin,
I gather them in, I gather them in.
I gather them in, &c.

'I gather them in, and their final rest
Is here, down here, in the earth's dark breast;'
And the Sexton ceas'd, for the fun'ral train
Wound mutely o'er that solemn plain;
And I said to myself, when Time is old,
A mightier voice than this Sexton's old
Will sound o'er the last trump's dreadful din:
'I gather them in,-I gather them in.'
Í gather them in, &c.

[merged small][graphic][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][subsumed][merged small][merged small][merged small]

while your soft delights! To praise each val-iant son that fights, And braves a

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

na - tive land, For free - dom, free- dom, freedom, and his na ·

The soldier seeks a distant plain,

The sailor ploughs the boist'rous main;
Their toil domestic ease secures,
The labour theirs, the pleasure yours:
Then change awhile your soft delights
To praise each valiant son that fights,
And braves abroad each hostile band,
For freedom and his native land.
Ye wealthy, who domestic sweets
Enjoy within your gay retreats,

Think, think, on those who guard the shore,
While unmolested springs your store,
And change awhile your soft delights,
To praise each valiant son that fights,
And braves abroad each hostile band,
For freedom and his native land.

tive land.

Ye swains who haunt the shady grove,
And tranquil breathe your vows of love,
Who hear not war's tremendous voice,
But in the arms of peace rejoice,
Change, change awhile your soft delights,
To praise each valiant son that fights,
And braves abroad each hostile band,
For freedom and his native land.

And ye, who in this frolic train,
Inspir'd with music's sprightly strain,
And wild with pleasure's airy round,
Bid flowing bowls with love be crown'd,
Amid your social dear delights,
Remember him who boldly fights,
And braves abroad each hostile band,
For freedom and his native land.

[blocks in formation]

love is doom'd to mourn:-Ah! naught my sighs avail, For love is doom'd to mourn."

The happy dream of love is o'er

Life,

- - a - las! can charm no more;

Fine.

The hap-py

dream of love is o'er

Life, a las! can charm no more. Hope

THE ROVER'S SONG.

The Poetry arranged expressly for this work to an Air by Donizetti.

Allegro con Spirito.

On-wards, my bark! O'er the green waves fly! Scud, gal-lant - ly, scud 'neath the

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

centive's re-venge I-Whose motto is gain! For who but 8 ro ver should

[blocks in formation]

On by the spur of va -lour goad - ed, Pistols prim'd and carbines load - ed,

Courage strikes on hearts of steel,- Courage strikes on hearts of steel. Like

serpents now thro' thick-ets creep-ing-Then on our prey like li-ons leaping, Let the weary

trav'ler dread us, Struck with ter-ror and a-maze. While our swords with lightnings blaze,

To the on-set let's a-way-Valour calls, and we obey; To the on-set, to the onset, to the

on-set let's a-way- Valour calls, and we o-bey, Va-lour calls, and we o-bey.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

Noted for las - ses

kind and sweet, The neigh-'bring ham - lets us'd to name us; And

then, good-na- tur'd, trim, and neat, Our little town for lads was famous. All

[ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

listen'd careful-ly at church On Sundays, saints' days, and Good Fridays, Till

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

toads to turn us up-side down, Miss Muz the milli-ner, and Bob the bar-ber.

Away the devils went to work ;

The men this fine Miss Muz ran after,

And as for Bob, this terrible Turk,
He courted ev'ry mother's daughter;
For miss were dress'd from head to feet,
So white and slim, so fine and smirching,

Somewhat, d'ye see, like a white sheet,
That I have seen 'em stand at church in.
Then he'd so dress and sing, and play,
That ev'ry creature gave 'em harbour,
Till through the town 'twas who but they,-
Miss Muz the milliner and Bob the barber.

I ASK THEE NOT TO THINK OF ME.
The Poetry by Mary.—Arranged expressly for this work to an Air by Spohr.

Moderato.

I ask thee not to think of me In sum-mer's cloud-less

[blocks in formation]

thy young heart has known a care, Or a teardrop dimm'd thine eye;

But

there may come a dark er hour, When sum-mer friends shall flee, And leave thee

lone and de-so-late-O! then re- mem-ber

I ask thee not to think of me,

When early hopes are bright,

Ere all that now so blissful seems

Be chang'd to storm and blight

me,- O! then remem-ber me. But there may come an hour of woe, When all thou lov'st shall be But shadows of the smiling pastOh, then remember me

Moderato.

WHAT'S THE MATTER, PATTY?

Once my heart the truant play'd; Patience, how I sigh'd and said- Pa-tience, how I

sigh'd and said-Why, what can be the mat-ter, Pat-ty? What can be the mat-ter,Patty? Patience,

[blocks in formation]

at-Why, what can be the matter? Why, what can be the mat-ter, Pat-ty?

We can be the mat-ter? How I sign'd, laugh'd, and cried! How I sigh'd, laugh d, and

cried! And sang, and sang fal lal lal la la, fal lal lal lal de ral de ra.

The youth I lov'd, he ask'd to wed,
Blushing when 'O yes,' I said,

What could be the matter, Patty?
I went to church, but went to wait,
And so I sent him packing straight;

Then what could be the matter, Patty?

How I sigh'd,
Laugh'd, and cried,

And sung fal lal, &c.

WHEN I WAS A BOY IN MY FATHER'S MUD EDIFICE. Vivace.

When I was a boy in my fa-ther's mud e di- fice, Ten-der and bare as

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

pig in a sty,

Out at the door, as

I look'd with a steady phiz,

Who but Pat Murphy, the pi- per, came by. Says Paddy, 'But few play this

mu - sic; can you play?' Says I,

זי

can't tell, for I never did try:' He

« 前へ次へ »