SONG.

Sung by Mrs. Crouch, in the Grey Beards.

WEET rofy fleep Oh do not fly,
Bind thy foft fillet on his eye,

That o'er each grave my own may rove,
And feast my hapless, joyless love!

For when he lifts thefe fhading lids,
His chilling flame fuch blifs forbids-
Then rofy fleep, Oh, do not fly,
But bind thy fillet on his eye.

SON G.

Dans Votre Lit.

Sung by Mr. Johnstone.

ANS votre lit, that bright parterre;
Should Flora bloom a lilly fair,

A fmiling jonquil I fhould be,

To blow (fweet flower) befide of thee.

Dans votre Lit, &c.

Or nodding in the thorny bush,
You droop to hide the rofes blufh;
The leafy umbrage make of me,

And in this breaft you'll fhelter'd be.

Dans votre Lit, &c.

-When every flower that paints the ground,
Throws fmiles and odours all around;
Sweet flower, I'll prove thy faithful bee,
And honey fip from none but thee.

Dans votre Lit, &c.

SONG.

2

SONG.

Ma Chere Amie.

Sung by Mr. Incledon.

A chere Amie, my charming fair,
Whofe fmiles can banish every care,

ΜΑ

In kind compaffion fmile on me,
Whofe only care is love of thee.

Ma chere Amie, &c.

Under fweet friendship's facred name,
My bofom caught the tender flame;
May friendship in thy bofom be,
Converted into love for me.

Ma chere Amie, &c.

Together rear'd, together grown,
Oh! let us now unite in one;
Let pity foften thy decree,

I droop dear maid, I die for thee.

Ma chere Amie, &c.

Y

SONG.

Favourite Ballad of Haydn.

Sung by Mifs George, at Freemafons Hall.

OUNG Hal called foftly, "Rife, my dear! 'Tis t your true love-can't you hear ?"

He tapp'd and tapp'd, impatient grown,

Again he call'd and faid,

66 Why Nancy love won't you come down?” "No, no!" reply'd the maid.

"The wind is bleak, the night is dark;
"Disturbed the village watch-dogs bark;
"Full five long miles for thee I've come,
"O'er dreary moorlands ftray'd;

"Rife from thy bed and make me room,'
"No, no!" reply'd the maid.

Then doleful turn'd he from the door,
And curs'd his fate and love forswore ;
But as he turn'd, he heard the key,

66

As tho' to creak afraid;

You'll not prove falfe, fure," whisper'd she."No, no, my charming maid.”

Thrice kifs'd the lovers, thrice the clock
Beat on the bell, thrice crow'd the cock.
Yet ftill right loath was Hal to go,

Tho' Nancy beg'd and pray'd;

Till laughing, neighbours cried "Oh, oh! "It's fo my pretty maid!",

SON G.

Mon Cœur Adieu.

Sung in the Girl in Style, by Mr Johnstone.'
Tune, Ma chere Amie.

WON Cœur, adieu, young Lubin cries,

M And tow'rds the diffant amp he flies;

Yet turns fair Annette's haunts to view,
And fighs, yon favourite hills-how blue.

Mon Cœur, adieu.

The Beacon's brow fair Annette won,
Her Lubin's arms reflects the fun;
The fun too foon his ray withdrew,
She figh'd-night steals my lover true.

Mon Cœur, adieu.
SONG.

SONG.

Sung by Mr. Bannifer, at the Anacreontic Society.

O Anacreon in heav'n, where he fat in full

то To glee,

A few fons of harmony fent a petition,

That he their infpirer and patron would be,

66

When this anfwer arriv'd from the jolly old Gre

cian :

"Voice, fiddle, and flute,

"No longer be mute,

"I'll lend ye my name, and infpire ye to boot; And, befides, I'll inftruct you like me to intwine "The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."

The news through Olympus immediately flew ; When old Thunder pretended to give himself airs; "If thefe mortals are fuffer'd their fcheme to purfue, The devil a goddefs will stay above flairs.

66

"Hark! already they cry;

"In tranfports of joy,

Away to the fons of Anacreon we'll fly,

"And there, with good fellows, we'll learn to intwine The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."

"The yellow-hair'd god and his nine fufty maids
"From Helicon's banks will incontinent flee;
"Idalia will boaft but of tenantlefs fhades,
"And the biforked hill a mere defart will be:
My thunder, no fear on't,

"Shall foon do it's errand,

"And, damn me, I'll fwinge the ringleaders, I war

rant;

"I'll trim the young dogs, for thus daring to twine "The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."

"Apollo

Apello rofe up, and faid, "Pr'ythee ne'er quarrel, "Good king of the gods, with my vot'rics below: "Your thunder is ufeleis "Then fhewing his laurel, Cried, Sic evitabile fulmen, you know!

"Then over each head

"My laurel I'll spread,

"So my fons from your crackers no mifchief fhall dread,

"Whilft, fnug in their club-room, they jovially

'twine

"The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine. Next Momus got up, with his rifible phiz,

And fwore with Apollo he'd cheerfully join. "The full tide of harmony still shall be his, "But the fong, and the catch, and the laugh, shall be mine.

"Then, Jove, be not jealous

"Of thefe honeft fellows :"

Cried Jove," We relent, fince he truth you now tell

us:

"And fwear, by old Styx, that they long fhall in

twine

"The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."

Ye fons of Anacreon, then join hand in hand;
Preferve unanimity, friendship, and love:
'Tis your's to fupport what's fo happily plann'd;
You've the fanction of gods, and the fiat of Jove.
While thus we agree,

Our toaft let it be,

May our club flourish happy, uinted, and free;
And long may the fons of Anacreon intwine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.

SONG.

Sung by Mrs. Kennedy, in Fontainbleau.

HE British lion is my fign,

TH

A roaring trade I drive on ;