 | Little John And The Giants |  |
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SCENE II.
Enter Dorothy Good.Dor.
This little loaf, with my large blessing, take.
Jack.
Your blessing is yet sweeter than your cake!
Dor.
This too receive—within this narrow chest,
Lies the best wealth that ever man possest;
By your own ancestors the prize was won,
And handed down, improved, from sire to son.
It is, my child, a strange and precious store—
The more imparted 'twill increase the more;
A store, my son, which thousands will admire,
Yet none will envy, and but few desire.
Jack.
Thanks, thanks!—The rising tear begins to flow;
My heart grows heavy, and my steps move slow!
My mother dear—my sister fair—to you
Farewell at once—Adieu!
Dor.
Adieu!
Grace.
Adieu!
[Exit Jack.
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AIR X.
Tune. “Oroo Dremendoo.”Grace.
I.
O now, with my Jacky, my own sweet boy,Farewell to the tasteless appearance of joy!
To a heart so o'erladen, all sorrows are meet,
Misfortunes are welcome, and mourning is sweet.
II.
Away ye companions of daily delight,And pastimes that gently could steal on the night;
Away ye fond sports of the wake and the fair;
Your pleasures are vanished—no Jacky is there!
III.
Of the ball, and the hurling, the dance, and the race,His skill was the victor, his person the grace;
The maids they would kiss from his head to his knee,
And wish they had all been his sisters like me.
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IV.
In the streams and the woodlands, the green and the glade,Where we frisk'd with our kids, with our lambkins we play'd,
Say your Jacky was here, and your Jacky was there—
But where is my Jacky now—tell me, O where?
V.
Thus ev'ry dear scene of my former delight,To my mind still recalls him—but not to my sight:
The trees they all droop, and the meadows look lone;
For whily, lilee, lilee loo—my Jacky is gone!—
Come, Gracey, come—pluck up a little courage;
Grief never boil'd a simple mess of porridge.
Let's to our task, my girl, our wheels within;
There weep thy bellyful—but weep and spin!
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AIR XI.
Tune. “Grania Mucil.”Dor.
I.
Though passions contend, and afflictions storm,And shake the frail state of our human form;
If Virtue the base of our pile sustain,
Affliction shall rage and assault in vain.
II.
The path for the steps of all mortals made,Is simply to follow where Truth shall lead;
Nor thou from its rectitude turn aside:
The rest, let hereafter and Heaven provide.
| Little John And The Giants | |