A collection of English songs, with an appendix of original pieces [Ed. by A. Dalrymple.].

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William Bennett; sold by P. Elmsly, 1796
 

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Seite 169 - Less than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell That spoke so sweetly and so well. What passion cannot music raise and quell!
Seite 10 - HARD is the fate of him who loves Yet dares not tell his trembling pain But to the sympathetic groves, But to the lonely listening plain. Oh ! when she blesses next your shade, Oh ! when her footsteps next are seen In flowery...
Seite 170 - The sacred organ's praise? Notes inspiring holy love, Notes that wing their heavenly ways To mend the choirs above.
Seite 7 - Immodest words admit of no defence ; For want of decency is want of sense.
Seite 101 - SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flow'ry meads in May, If she think not well of me, What care I how fair she be?
Seite 14 - Nor peace, nor ease, the heart can know, That, like the needle true, Turns at the touch of joy or woe, But turning, trembles too.
Seite 70 - If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies; And they are fools who roam : The world has nothing to bestow ; From our own selves our joys must flow, And that dear hut, our home.
Seite 53 - PHILLIS is my only joy, Faithless as the winds or seas, Sometimes coming, sometimes coy, Yet she never fails to please; If with a frown I am cast down, Phillis smiling And beguiling Makes me happier than before. Though alas ! too late I find Nothing can her fancy fix, Yet the moment she is kind I forgive her all her tricks ; Which though I see, I can't get free.
Seite 168 - From harmony, from heavenly harmony, This universal frame began : When Nature underneath a heap of jarring atoms lay, And could not heave her head, The tuneful voice was heard from high. Arise ye more than dead. Then cold and hot, and moist and dry, In order to their stations leap, And music's power obey. From harmony, from heavenly harmony, This universal frame began : From harmony to harmony Through all the compass of the notes it ran, The diapason closing full in man.
Seite 137 - Now the flame rises fast, you exult in my pain; But the son of Alknomook can never complain. I go to the land where my father is gone; His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son: Death comes like a friend, he relieves me from pain; And thy son, Oh Alknomook!

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