LYRIC POETRY. GLEE, for 4 Voices.-J. C. CLIFTON. A BLOSSOM wreath of rich perfume She to her beauty gave its bloom, I sent her then a pearl to prize, (Purday.) Words by J. M. Divaston. LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER. GLEE, for 3 Voices.-G. HARGREAVES. (Soprano, Tenor, Bass.) A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound, And I'll give thee this silver pound B "And who be ye would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water?" "Oh! I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter. "And fast before her father's men, Three days we've fled together; For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather. "His horsemen hard behind us ride; Should they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride When they have slain her lover?" Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, "I'll go, my chief, I'm ready: It is not for your silver bright, "And, by my word, the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry; So, though the waves are raging white, I'll row ye o'er the ferry." By this, the storm grew loud apace, Grew dark, as they were speaking. But still, as wilder blew the wind, "Oh, haste thee! haste!" the lady cries; The boat has left a stormy land, When oh! too strong for human hand, And still they rowed amidst the roar, Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore, For sore dismayed, through storm and shade "Come back, come back!" he cried in grief, And I'll forgive your Highland chief, "Twas vain! the loud waves lash'd the shore, Return or aid preventing: The waters wild went o'er his child, And he was left lamenting. (Hawes.) Words by Campbell. GLEE, for 4 Voices and Chorus.-H. R. BISHOP, M.B. (Alto, 2 Tenors, Bass.) A CUP of wine, that 's brisk and fine, Then for the chace and falconers cry! Be merry, be merry, my wife has all; For women are shrews, both short and tall: Bishop's Collection, (D' Almaine). Words by Shakspere. EPIGRAM, for 4 Voices.-W. JACKSON. (2 Sopranos, Tenor, Bass.) ADAM alone could not be easy, So he must have a wife, and please ye! But how could he procure that wife, To be the solace of his life? How? how? Out of a rib, sir, from his side, Was formed the needful useful bride; But how did he the pain beguile? How? how? |