Allegro. BACHELOR'S FARE. Composed expressly for this Work by Henry West, R.A. Fun-ny and free are a ba-che-lor's re-vel-ries; Chee-ri - ly, mer-ri-ly pass-es his life No-thing knows he of con-nu-bi- al de - vil-ries, Trou-ble-some chil-dren and clam-our-ous wife. . Free from sa ti-e ty, care and anx-i-e-ty, Charms in va-ri-e-ty fall to his share : Bac-chus's blisses and Ven-us-'s kis-ses; A wife, like a canister, chattering, clattering, Hurries and worries him till he is dead; Old ones are two devils haunted with blue devils, Allegro. 4 This, boys, this is the ba che lor's fare. Turning your temper, and spurning your rule: Boys wi anticipate, lavish, and dissipate, All that your busy pate hoarded with care;Then tell me what jollity, fun, and frivolity, Equal ir quality bachelor's fare? www. ་པ་ NEW ZEALANDER'S BATTLE-SONG. The Poetry translated from the German of Burger; the Music by Samatheni. Hal-lo, ye my fel-lows, a - rise and advance! See the white-crest-ed waves, how they stamp and they At home, wives and children a hearth for us lay; streams, dance, High o-ver the reef there, with anger and might! So wild-ly we dance to the bloody - red fight. Then gather! now gather! come, gather, ye all! Each thing that hath limbs and arms, come at our call! [sweeps by, Like reeds on the moor, when the whirlwind Our lances and war-axes darken the sky. Sharp, sharp as the tooth of the sea-hound and shark, [mark! They'll bore ye, they'll split ye. Fly, lance, to the Home, home to the heart! And thou, battle-axe grim, [and limb! Split, splintering and shivering, through brain-pan To-day we ask vengeance, to-day we ask blood; We ask it; we're coming to make our word good; The storm flinches not, though the woods choke its path; We ask it; we're coming; beware of our wrath! And the blaze of the brush-fire crackles and gleams. a-glow! The fire is flaring; the oven Andantino. THE ECHOES. The Words by William Ball; the Music by Weber. Far in the wild wood, Deep in yon dell, Haunt of my child-hood, Sweet e-choes The call and the pleasure, Of Echo's reply! The soul of that pleasure, What shall restore? Mine is the treasure, Oh, never more! THE KING AND THE JACKETS OF BLUE. first to sip The sweets, the sweets, that hung up on the lip Of Faithless Espres. a tempo. wife, a smil-ing babe to fold, Whose hap-less fa-ther, dis-tant far, a wa-t'ry grave may dis-tant far, a wa-t'ry grave may Who would not be a sailor's wife, when, storm and tempest o'er, To see him haste across the green, and reach his cottage door? hold, a wa-t'ry grave may hold? Who would not be a sailor's wife, while tears of transport start, To hear his voice, to see him smile, and clasp him to her heart? THE LANDLADY'S DAUGHTER. The Poetry translated from the Getinan by Uhland; the Music of T. Schubert. Allegro. Three stu-dents were tra-vel-ling o-ver the Rhine; They stopp'd when they came to the land- la-dy's sign; Good land-la-dy, have you good beer and wine? And where is that dear lit-tle daugh-ter of thine? And where 'My beer and wine are fresh and clear: My daughter she lies on the cold death-bier!' And when to the chamber they made their way, There, dead, in a coal-black shrine, she lay. The first he drew near, and the veil gently rais'd, And on her pale face he mournfully gaz'd: 'Ah! wert thou but living yet,' he said, 'I'd love thee from this time forth, fair maid!' ww THE PRAIRIE LEA. The Poetry by Dr. J. K. Mitchell.-The Music composed by Joseph Philip Knight. Moderato. plea-sure calls to Ma-ry's bow'r: hark, hark, hark! Plea-sure calls, pleasure calls, pleasure calls to Mary's Jow-er; plea-sure calls to Mary's bow'r. I took my seat, and 'gainst the tide he row'd away in shore; [stant roar ; The song begun at Ratcliff Cross was now a conFor ev'ry plying-place we pass'd, the boys their voices lent [vent.' To hail us, as we row'd along, with 'over-board he Singing, pull away, &c. The waterman he row'd and swore, and look'd with augry eyes,— lie wish'd their noisy tongues were tied, to stop their stupid cries; I wonder'd what it was about, and ask'd him what they meant, [vent.' By calling, as he row'd along, 'and over board he Singing, pull away, &c. Says he, I'm call'd Ned Topper, and I ply at Fountain Stairs; [such airs, A wicked nephew I have got, that gives himself That, one day in a wrathful mood, to strike him I [I vent.' The cunning dog he step'd aside, 'and over boar Singing, pull away, &c. was bent; |