 | Our Native Land, and Gallant Protectors |  |
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SCENE I.
A rural View, with Hay-field newly cut, Hay-cocks, &c. &c.—(Time, Evening.)Enter Farmer with lads and lasses, &c. carrying implements of Agriculture, &c. festively.
CHORUS.
The heart cheering sounds of the pipe and the tabor,
Proclaim our gay frolicks and sports have began;
Thus pleasure succeeding, gives smiles to brown labour,
Tho' homely our lot, to be happy's our plan!
Solo—Farmer.
With humming home brew'd, while our thirst we're allaying,
This wish shall give zest to our ale!
“May plenty the husbandman's toil be repaying,
“Success to the sickle and flail!”
Solo—Farmer's Daughter.
Each hay-making lass, like your gay dames so lightly,
With her rake in her hand joy partakes;
But lord! they're quite harmless, and tho' not so sightly,
Are ten times more useful than London-made rakes.
Chorus.
Again the pipe and tabor sounds,
Merry men and maids advance,
Good fellowship our pastime crowns,
The song and sprightly dance.
A RUSTIC DANCE
takes place;
after which Dairy Maid comes forward.The heart cheering sounds of the pipe and the tabor,
Proclaim our gay frolicks and sports have began;
Thus pleasure succeeding, gives smiles to brown labour,
Tho' homely our lot, to be happy's our plan!
Solo—Farmer.
With humming home brew'd, while our thirst we're allaying,
This wish shall give zest to our ale!
“May plenty the husbandman's toil be repaying,
“Success to the sickle and flail!”
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Each hay-making lass, like your gay dames so lightly,
With her rake in her hand joy partakes;
But lord! they're quite harmless, and tho' not so sightly,
Are ten times more useful than London-made rakes.
Chorus.
Again the pipe and tabor sounds,
Merry men and maids advance,
Good fellowship our pastime crowns,
The song and sprightly dance.
Song—Dairy Maid.
[1.]
My dairy I've left here assistance to yield,The reason have never denied;
As I busily turn'd o'er the swarth in the field,
My sweet-heart kept close by my side.
He's a comely young man, and adores me he swears,
That I love him a little I own;
Not because his two eyes are as bright as two stars,
But I'm somehow so nervous, have always such fears,
I don't like to be long left alone.
Fal lal la.
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2.
It is not for numerous companions I sigh,With their scandal and tattle and stuff;
When my lover I meet I want no one else bye,
In love, one companion's enough.
As I sat up for master quite late t'other night,
I heard such a terrible moan,
I'm sure 'twas some spectre, hobgobblin, or sprite;
The candle burnt blue—I cried out in a fright,
Oh dear! I can ne'er sleep alone!
Fal lal la.
3.
The story I told to my good-humour'd swain,His sympathy wide spread its wing;
And light as a fawn he sprang over the plain,
To purchase a licence and ring.
And when we are married, which soon will take place,
I don't care how soon I must own;
My fears will be hush'd, all my terrors will cease,
For I hope, and I dare say it will be the case,
My husband won't leave me alone.
Fal lal la.
RUSTIC PAS SEUL—Mrs. HELME; after which enter the Genius of Britain, waving forward the Farmer, &c. who eagerly approach him, forming a semi-circle.
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From peace and the blessings which gladden her train,
The trumpet sounds war's dire alarms;
And compell'd by the most dire aspiring of men,
Sons of Britain, I rouse ye to arms!
To arms, to arms,
Sons of Britain, I rouse ye to arms!
The trumpet sounds war's dire alarms;
And compell'd by the most dire aspiring of men,
Sons of Britain, I rouse ye to arms!
To arms, to arms,
Sons of Britain, I rouse ye to arms!
Our sinews are strong, and our spirits are steel'd,
We valour's firm Phalanx command;
Determin'd to conquer, we'll march to the field,
Or die, for our dear native land!
We valour's firm Phalanx command;
Determin'd to conquer, we'll march to the field,
Or die, for our dear native land!
To inspire us, our annals we have but to read
The deeds that our countrymen wrought;
In their footsteps of fame, be it our pride to tread,
“And we'll fight as our forefathers fought!”
Again then may peace soon succeed war's alarms,
To arms gallant Britons, brave comrades to arms.
The deeds that our countrymen wrought;
In their footsteps of fame, be it our pride to tread,
“And we'll fight as our forefathers fought!”
Again then may peace soon succeed war's alarms,
To arms gallant Britons, brave comrades to arms.
Waves his wand, and the scene changes to an extensive encampment—stands of musquets where the hay-cocks were—all the characters change their dresses to various Corps of Volunteers; the Farmer to that of an officer in the Yeomanry Cavalry.—The ladies adorn their bonnets, &c. with military cockades.
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Song, by an Officer of the Surry Yeoman Cavalry.
[1.]
In Surry's bold cavalry, 'tis my proud boast,I'm enroll'd! no true Briton can pause;
To with heart and with hand arm to guard Britain's coast,
And conquer or die in her cause!
The proud threats of France are too vague to appal,
To the post Duty points out we wing;
Determin'd to humble the vauntings of Gaul,
Thus arm'd for our country and king!
For our homes 'tis we fight, should their fleets hither roam,
They'll still find our watch-word is, “Briton's strike home.”
2.
Independent, no lucre our service secures,Nor bend we at ambition's throne;
No love of vain praise our exertion allures,
But the love of our country alone!
For that we'll brave death like our fathers of yore!
To his senses Gaul's tyrant will bring,
Or the best blood he boasts shall ensanguine our shore,
While we fight for our country and king!
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They'll still find our watch-word is, “Britons strike home.”
3.
No war of oppression we wage without cause,But united to fight we prepare;
For our island, our freedom, religion and laws,
And for all to a Briton that's dear!
May the great God of battles, in whom 'tis we trust,
Wide expand o'er our heroes his wing;
The war we're compell'd to, prove glorious as just,
And his shield guard our country and king.
For our home we contend, should Gaul's fleet hither roam,
They'll still find our watch-word is, “Britons strike home!”
After this A CALEDONIAN PAS SEUL By Mrs. PARKER.
Re-enter Genius of Britain.
Recitative.
Now view what British valour can attain
On our own glorious element, the main.
Scene changes to a Grand Naval View; a party of Sailors enter, bearing on their shoulders Steady Sam.
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[1.]
My name's Steady Sam, and 'tis steady I goes,Some sarvice have done and have seen;
I drinks with my friends, and I fights with my foes,
And am never the lad to give in.
It seems to invade us the Mounseers all swear;
From their flat-bottom'd boats I've no doubt
They'd as easily land as a waterman's fare,
But zounds what should we be about?
Why I'll tell ye (you knows you on Sam may depend)
We'd set to and drub them so hearty,
That invasion and they wou'd be soon at an end,
And a rope's-end for grim Buonaparte.
With my ri tol de diddle dol, pull away, yeo ho,
Ri lol de diddle lol, yeo heave ho!
A rope's-end for Mounseer Buonaparte.
2.
The fellow so bounces, and swears this and that,Our island he'll soon make his own;
Great Britain's bare back that he'll bring to the cat,
'Tant so easy he'll find to be done.
He'd our navy arrest, cram it into the fleet,
In a watch-box our army enthrall;
Make thread-paper wadding of Threadneedle-street,
And bullets of fam'd Leadenhall.
But avast there a bit—he on this may depend,
To ourselves we will prove true and hearty;
'Till invasion and tyranny both have an end,
And a rope's-end for King Buonaparte.
With my ri tol, &c.
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3.
“He thinks we're all napping, and so he'll steal o'er,“While thus we appear in a trance;
“Will fasten a cable to Portsmouth's bold shore,
“And tow poor Great Britain to France.”
As to towing, I fancy he han't learnt the knack,
With us 'tis but one of our sports;
Only just at their fleets let us have but one smack,
And we'll tow them all into our ports.
Then our island for ever, and that we'll defend,
Our King and our state bold and hearty;
Till the safety we fight for puts war to an end,
And a rope's-end for grim Buonaparte.
With my ri tol, &c.
TRIPLE NAVAL HORNPIPE, By Mr. MONTGOMERY, Miss ADAMS, and Mrs. PARKER.
Finale—Genius. (Written by a Gentleman.
Soon shall the proud invaders learn,
When bent on blood and plunder,
That British bosoms nobly burn
To brave their cannon's thunder.
Farmer.
Low may they lie whose wily arts
Have plann'd the world's undoing;
Our vengeful blades shall reach their hearts
Who seek our country's ruin.
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'Till victory our efforts crown
Our rights we will maintain;
And the whole universe make own
Britannia rules the main:
“Rule, Britannia, Britannia rules the waves,
“Britons never will be slaves.”
Farmer.
Our constitution thus secur'd,
The glorious struggle ended,
We'll sing the dangers we've endur'd,
The blessings we've defended.
Dairy Maid.
As o'er the bowl your feats ye tell,
Each gallant deed reciting,
We'll weep o'er those who nobly fell,
Their country's battles fighting.
Chorus.
Our efforts victory shall crown,
France, we your vaunts disdain;
The world's vast universe shall own
Britannia rules the main:
“Rule, Britannia, Britannia rules the waves,
“Britons never will be slaves.“
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
| Our Native Land, and Gallant Protectors | |