IN DAYS OF OLD. W. H. BELLAMY.] [Music by J. L. HATTON. IN days of old, the monks, we're told, That every night, by dim lamp-light, Each one to his book, in his own cell nook, However the night was cold, They'd no desire for fuel or fire, But ever their beads they told. But, alack! and alas! for these holy men! That as soon as they heard the midnight bell And to supper they all rushed in pell-mell, They'd "haunch" and "ham," and "cheek" and "chine," They'd cream "pine," " and "custard," "peach" and And they gargled their throats with right good wine, Till the Abbot his nose grew red! No "de profundis" then they sang, But a roystering catch to the rafters rang! THE POWER OF MUSIC. From the German.] [Music by BEETHOVEN. Oн, how great the power of music At its voice the storms of anger Kindles with creative fire, Oh, what high and rapt'rous feelings MRS. HEMANS.] THE INVOCATION. [Music by MRS. OWEN. OH! art thou still on earth, my love? My only love! Or smiling in a brighter home Far, far above? Oh! is thy sweet voice fled, my love? And art thou not, in earth or heaven, Still, still my own? I see thee with thy gleaming hair, But cold, and clear, and spirit-like, Thy soft eye seems. Peace in thy saddest hour, my love! But something Dwelt on thy brow; mournfully divine There shineth now! And silent ever is thy lip, And pale thy cheek ; Oh! art thou earth's, or art thou heaven's? Speak to me, speak! I NEVER LOVED BUT THEE. J. E. CARPENTER.] [Music by SIGNOR POZNANSKI, DEAREST, I never loved but thee, The image of thy gentle face, Though lost for aye, each charm to me Though thou may'st teach me to reprove, I've listened to another's voice, I've bow'd before another shrine, W. F. VANDERVELL.] SIGHED. [Music by WILLEM VANDERvell. FAIR Gertrude at her lattice sighed, And silvery echoes they replied, Well-a-day, Well-a-day; Young Rudolph had to battle gone, Well-a-day; And left her lonely and forlorn, Well-a-day; And there beneath the moon's pale ray, And thus she watched, and thus she sighed, Well-a-day, Whilst silvery echoes they replied, Well-a-day. But Rudolph ne'er returned again, For he was in the battle slain, Well-a-day, Well-a-day; Well-a-day, Well-a-day. And 'midst the dying and the dead, His noble spirit upward fled, The red sun set, the moonbeams played, But no one to that lattice strayed, For she had gone to join her love In realms of peace above; And through the air the night-bird sighed, Well-a-day, Whilst silvery echoes they replied, Fair Gertrude, well-a-day. ROBIN HOOD AND THE ABBOT. G. SOANE, B.A.] [Music by J. L. HATTON. ROBIN HOOD is forth at break of day, |