1 GLEE. Masters TIDMAN and CARTER, and Mr. LIDDELL. Blow, warder, blow thy sounding horn, And thy banner wave on high, Callcott. For the Christians have fought in the holy land, And have won the victory. Loud, loud the warder blew his horn, And his banner wav'd on high: Let the mass be sung, and the bells be rung, The warder look'd froin the tow'r on high, As far as he could see; I see a bold knight, and by his red cross, I see a bold knight, and on his shield bright Then down the lord of the castle came, The red-cross knight to meet, And when the red-cross knight he espied Right loving he did him greet: Thou'rt welcome here, dear red-cross knight, For thy fame's well known to me, And the mass shall be sung, and the bells shall be rung, Oh, I am come from the holy land, And we have fought in the holy land, And have won the victory; For with valiant might did the Christians fight, Thou'rt welcome here, dear red-cross knight, And for the good tidings thou dost bring We'll feast us merrily. For all in my castle shall rejoice That we've won the victory; And the mass shall be sung, and the bells shall be rung, And the feast eat merrily. SONG. Mifs WALKER. Where'er you Handel. walk cool gales shall fan the glade, Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade; Where'er you tread the blushing flow'rs shall rife, And all things flourish where you turn your eyes. SYMPHONY. Pleyel. Spread thy white sails to the beam of the morning, And retire to the echoing hill. Bleft be thy soul, thou king of men; In war the mountain storm. Give us the song of former years, Let the night pass away in the sound, CONCERTO, with Clarionets obligato. SONG. Miss WALKER. Bach. Arnold. If 'tis joy to wound a lover, How much more to give him ease? When his passion we discover, Oh, how pleafing 'tis to please! FINALE. Girovetz. When storms the proud to terrors doom He forms the dark majestic scene; He rolls his thunder thro' the gloom, And on the whirlwind rides serene. O Judah! boast his matchless law, SONG. Miss WALKER. I wander'd once at break of day, Stevenson. Then first the fairest face I knew, So mix'd the rose and lily's white, To deck her cheek, what flower fhe'd choose, I wish I ne'er had seen her eye, Ne'er seen her cheek of doubtful dye, And never, never dar'd to sip The sweets that hung upon the lip CONCERTO (Violin.) Mr. MARSHALL. GLEE. Masters TIDMAN, and CARTER and Mr. LIDDELL. Hayes. In April, when primroses paint the sweet plain, There, under the shade of an old sacred thorn, |