When his loud voice in thunder spoke,
With consious fear the billows broke,

Handel.

Observant of his dread command.
In vain they roll their foaming tide;
Confin'd by the Almighty pow'r,
That gave them strength to roar,
They now contract their boist'rous pride,
And lash with idle rage the laughing strand.

TWENTY-SECOND CONCERT,

TUESDAY, JUNE 28, 1808,

OVERTURE, (Military.)

ACT I.

Haydn.

Handel.

AIR and CHORUS. Dettingen Te Deum.

LORD, in thee have I trusted; let me never be

confounded.

DUETT.

The Miss LYONS.

Addison.

Ye banks, on which we oft have stray'd,

Why do ye bloom so fresh and fair?

Why do ye chaunt, ye plumy choir,
And I so weary full of care?

Thou'llst break my heart, O songster sad,
That warbles thro' the flow'ry thorn,
Thou 'mindst me of departed joys,
Departed, never to return.

SONATA, Harp. Mr. WEIPPERT.

Weippert.

SONG. Mr. BRAHAM.

Pepush.

(Accompanied on the Violoncello by Mr. REINAGLE.)

RECITATIVE.

See from the silent

grove Alexis flies,

And seeks with ev'ry pleasing art
To ease the pain which lovely eyes
Created in his heart:

To shining theatres he now repairs,
To learn Camilla's moving airs;
Where thus to music's pow'r
The swain address'd his pray'r:

AIR.

Charming sounds that sweetly languish,
Music, O compose my anguish !
Ev'ry passion yields to thee;
Phoebus quickly then relieve me,
Cupid shall no more deceive me,
I'll to sprightlier joys be free.

RECITATIVE.

Apollo heard the foolish swain;

He knew when Daphne once he lov❜d,
How weak t' asswage an am'rous pain
His own harmonious art had prov❜d,

And all his healing herbs how vain.
Then thus he strikes the speaking strings,
Preluding to his voice, and sings,

AIR.

Sounds, tho' charming, can't relieve thee,
Do not, shepherd, then deceive thee,

Music is the voice of love!
If the tender maid believe thee,
Soft relenting, kind consenting,
Will alone thy pain remove.

SONG. Miss LYON.

Partiro dal caro bene,
Ah! che mai sara di me,
Nel crudele affanno, oh Dio
Tremo sol mio ben per te,
E non cede, O' fier tiranno,
A quel' pianto il suo furor,
Sventurata in tal istante,
No non reggo al mio dolor.

Partiro dal caro bene,
Ah di me che mai sarą
Son pur fiere le mie pene,
Questa e troppa crudelta
Dolce amica sposo amato,
No non reggo al mio dolor.

See the proud Chief advances now

With sullen march and gloomy brow.

Jacob arise, assert thy God,

And scorn oppression's iron rod.

Cimarosa.

Handel.

Mozart.

ACT II.

DUETT. Miss LYON and Mr. BRAHAM.

Miss L. Ah perdona al primo affetto,

Questo accento sconsigliato,

Colpa fú del labbro usato,

A cosi chiamarti ognor.

Mr. B. Ah 'tu fosti il primo oggetto,

Miss L.

Mr. B.

BOTH.

Che finor fedel amai,

E tu l'ultimo sarai,

Ch 'abbia nido in questo cor.
Cau accenti del mio bene!

Oh mia dolce cara speme!
Piu che ascolto i sensi tuoi,
In me cresce piu l'ardor.
Quando un alma e altra unita,
Qual piacer un cor risente,
A si tronchi d'alta ista

Tutto quel, che non e'amor.

CONCERTO, Violoncello. Mr. REINAGLE.

RECIT. and AIR. Mr. BRAHAM.

RECITATIVE.

Ye gloomy caves! abodes of dark despair!
Of howling madness, and distracted care!
For you the fruitful plains I quit,

Still on the peaked rock to sit,

And

gaze upon my grave that opens there:

Braham.