Melodies, duets, trios, songs, and ballads, pastoral, amatory, sentimental, patriotic, religious, and miscellaneous Together with metrical epistles, tales and recitations |
 | MELODIES.
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 | Melodies, duets, trios, songs, and ballads, pastoral, amatory, sentimental, patriotic, religious, and miscellaneous |  |
MELODIES.
I...PASTORAL AND AMATORY.
7
[Whate'er the charms of mead or grove]
Whate'er the charms of mead or grove,In nature's brightest colours drest,
Of all the flowers that bloom, I love
The modest primrose best.
8
[Ye fair, who seek a splendid lot]
Ye fair, who seek a splendid lot,Behold content, a richer prize,
Within the humblest ploughman's cot,
That rank and pride despise.
In palace or cot, whatever your lot,
The farmer your table supplies.
9
[No more pursue the city's fleeting toys]
No more pursue the city's fleeting toys,But seek, in rural scenes, for calmer joys.
11
[And now relieved from day's turmoil]
And now relieved from day's turmoil,Let festive pleasures fill each breast,
And no intruding sorrows spoil
The song and mirthful jest.
For lords of the soil, and fed by our toil,
American farmers are blest.
15
[The fortune I crave, and I covet no more]
The fortune I crave, and I covet no more,Is health, rural pleasures, apparel, and food,
The friend that I love, and the girl I adore,
In a neat little cottage that stands near a wood
16
Smile of Affection.
Is there a light whose effulgence can dry
The tear of affliction, and rapture restore?
'Tis the bright sunny ray of a love-beaming eye,
The smile of affection from one I adore.
The tear of affliction, and rapture restore?
'Tis the bright sunny ray of a love-beaming eye,
The smile of affection from one I adore.
I'd sigh not for grandeur, for fame, or for wealth,
But, thankful for little, would wish for no more,
If blest with a cottage, with friendship, and health,
And the smile of affection from one I adore.
But, thankful for little, would wish for no more,
If blest with a cottage, with friendship, and health,
And the smile of affection from one I adore.
17
[While flocks and herds in safety feed]
While flocks and herds in safety feed,The shepherd wakes his tuneful reed;
Or, leaning on his rustic crook,
Beneath the shade, beside a brook,
Carols the lazy hours away,
Till sylvan echoes catch the lay.
19
[While slaves of ambition sell comfort for fame]
While slaves of ambition sell comfort for fame,Be mine the applause of the wise and the good,
A conscience that daily acquits me of blame,
In a neat little cottage that stands near a wood.
22
[In life's fair morn, when sunshine warm'd the scene]
In life's fair morn, when sunshine warm'd the scene,And fairy hopes danced o'er the laughing green,
My infant muse essay'd the artless strain,
On Charles's bank, or Newton's verdant plain.
23
[Now sober Pomona has won]
Now sober Pomona has wonThe frolicksome Flora's domains,
And the work the gay goddess begun,
The height of maturity gains.
27
Variety.
The noblest talent love can claim,Is never to appear the same;
For 'tis variety alone,
That props the urchin-tyrant's throne.
So do the seasons, as they range,
Afford new pleasure when they change:
The sweetest flower would cease to cheer,
Should fragrant spring bloom all the year.
33
Beside a Streamlet.
Beside a streamlet, where the whispering reeds
And fragrant flags upon its borders play,
Where down the valley it meandering leads,
My infant footsteps first were taught to stray.
And fragrant flags upon its borders play,
Where down the valley it meandering leads,
My infant footsteps first were taught to stray.
The sylvan Muse enticed me to her cell,
My childish fingers wanton'd o'er her lyre,
And, pleased to hear the rustic numbers swell,
I fondly thought that others must admire.
My childish fingers wanton'd o'er her lyre,
And, pleased to hear the rustic numbers swell,
I fondly thought that others must admire.
So, as I grew, and learn'd to sweep the strings,
By art directed, though less sweetly wild,
I envied not the happiness of kings,
My lyre was bliss, and I a happy child.
By art directed, though less sweetly wild,
I envied not the happiness of kings,
My lyre was bliss, and I a happy child.
With fond regret I left that calm retreat,
Diversified with meadows, groves, and hills,
Where nature's charms in sweet disorder meet,
With Charles's thousand tributary rills.
Diversified with meadows, groves, and hills,
Where nature's charms in sweet disorder meet,
With Charles's thousand tributary rills.
35
[How oft, reclined beside a babbling stream]
How oft, reclined beside a babbling streamI sang of love—a minstrel's sweetest dream,
And sang sincerely—for I felt the theme.
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