GLEE for Four Voices. S. WEBBE. SINCE harmony deigns with her votʼries to dwell, And thus by her presence diffuse new delight; GLEE for Four Voices. SINCE first I saw your face I resolv'd To honour and renown you; If now I be disdain'd, I wish My heart had never known you : What I that lov'd, and you that lik❜d, Shall we begin to wrangle? No, no, no! my heart is fast, And cannot disentangle. The sun whose beams most glorious arc, Rejecteth no beholder, And your sweet beauty past compare, FORD, 1620. GLEE for Four Voices. W. HORSLEY, M.B SEE the chariot at hand here of Love, Wherein my lady rideth! Each that draws is a swan, or a dove, As she goes, all hearts do duty And, enamour'd, do wish so they might But enjoy such a sight, That they still were to run by her side, Thro' swords, thro' seas, whither she wou'd ride. Have you seen but a bright lilly grow, Or have smelt o'the bud o'the briar, Or the nard in the fire? Or have tasted the bag of the bee? O so white! O so soft! O so sweet is she! Ben Jonson. GLEE for Four Voices. SAY, mighty love, and teach my song, To whom thy sweetest joys belong, And who the happy pairs; C. S. EVANS. Whose yielding hearts and joining hands, Now the mad tribe that hell inspires, On Etna's top let furies wed, And sheets of light'ning deck their bed, Two kindred souls alone must meet, 'Tis friendship makes the bondage sweet, Bright Venus on her rolling throne, And Cupids yoke the doves. Dr. Watts. GLEE for Four Voices. J. S. SMITH. SLEEP, sleep, poor youth! sleep, sleep in peace! Reliev'd from love, and mortal care ; Whil'st we that pine in life's disease, Couch'd in the dark and dismal grave, Wars that do fatal storms disperse, Past is the fear of future doubt, The sun is from the dial gone; The sands are sunk, the glass is out, Tom Durfey's Pills to Purge Melancholy. GLEE for Five Voices. R. J. S. STEVENS. 66 SOME of my heroes are low," I hear the sound of death on the harp. Bid the sorrow rise; that their spirits may fly with joy to Morven's woody hills; "bend forward from your clouds," ghosts of my fathers; bend! Lay by the red terror of your course, receive the falling chief; whether he comes from a distant land, or rises from the rolling sea. And oh! let his countenance be lovely, that his friends may delight in his presence. Bend forward from your clouds, "ghosts of my fathers," bend! GLEE for Five Voices. SOPHROSYNE,* thou guard unseen, Whose delicate controul Can turn the discord of chagrin To harmony of soul. Above the lyre, the lute above, Which makes the peace of all we love, Ossian. Dr. COOKE. The basis of our own. Wm. Hayley, Esq. * Euphrosyne. |