SCOTTISH BALLAD, Miss STEPHENS.
you courted me, I own
I fondly favour'd you;
Apparent worth and high renown
Made me believe you true-Donald.
Each virtue then seem'd to adorn
The man esteem'd by me;
But now the mask's thrown off, I scorn
To waste one thought on thee-Donald.
O then for ever haste away,
Away from love and me;
Go seek a heart that's like your own,
And come no more to me- -Donald.
For I'll reserve myself alone
For one that's more like me;
If such a friend I cannot find,
I'll fly from love and thee-Donald.
GRAND JUBILEE OVERTURE.
Composed by C. M. Von Weber in commemoration of the King of
Saxony having commenced the Fiftieth Year of his Reign;
In which is introduced our National Anthem of " God save the King."
The Offering of Devotion at the Shrine of Nature. The Words by HAMPDEN NAPIER, Esq.
Arranged by Mr. HAWES to the Original Music of NATUR UND LIEBE.
Composed by C. M. VON WEBER.
Miss CAWSE, Miss H. CAWSE, Mr. HAWES,
Mr. PHILLIPS, and CHORUS.
How blest the man, whom Nature's smile
With pure and radiant freshness greeteth,
Whose heart, devoid of guilt or guile,
All lightly in his bosom beateth:
How blest, who ne'er hath turn'd astray
From virtue's straight but rugged way.
And blest is he whose steadfast breast
To God and Nature true remaining,
Hath Nature for its constant guest,
Its purity no evil staining:
For him is Nature's cup of joy
Unmix'd with any foul alloy.
That man may dare approach his Maker's throne, Whose heart beats true to Nature's laws, and Nature loves alone.
To him alike the splendour of the solar glow,
Alike the humblest shrubs, the simplest flowers that
The lowly worm that crawls upon the sand
Bespeak his Maker's hand.
He marks His piercing eye-beam forth with equal light, In brightest day's warm gleam, or 'mid the gloom of night;
His voice when tempests rage on high,
Or gentle breezes sigh.
Though danger's darkest storms upon his path may lower,
His hope and trust are firm in that Almighty power; His heart unmov'd, when, in the hour of death, He yields his feeble breath.
RECIT. Mr. BRAHAM.
Not all the world's vain luxuries,
Nor wealth, nor power, nor honour's surer ties,
Nor e'en the all commanding smile of beauty,
Can lure him from the path of duty.
When first upon the mountain's side
The purple hue of morning breaketh,
As blushes steal upon the bride,
And light a thousand gleaming sparkles shaketh
Along the far-spread ocean tide,
Then with the lark's first song his spirit waketh,
And lowly prayer to Heaven he maketh.
RECIT. Mr. BELLAMY.
And when the sun descendeth to the west,
And eve her softest tears is weeping,
And darkness o'er the earth is creeping,
He chaunts his evening hymn from grateful breast,
And, sure of safety, sinks content to rest.
DUET, Miss CAWSE and Miss H. CAWSE.
Fraught with melodies Elysian,
Bright and beaming is the vision,
Which, with memory's charm combin'd,
Floats across his slumb'ring mind.
Nought disturbs his tranquil slumber,
Whence each trace of woe bath fled
Heavenly spirits without number
Wake around his peaceful bed.
Joy to thee, most blest of mortals,
Slumber opens to thee the portals
Of a scene, as heavenly bright
As e'er witnessed human sight.
Nought disturbs thy tranquil slumber,
Whence each trace of woe hath fled;
Heavenly spirits without number
Wake around thy peaceful bed.
RECIT. Mr. BRAHAM.
But when the heart is sad with sorrow,
And finds no refuge in the past;
Nor dares to hope that it can borrow
One of comfort from the morrow,
ray
Unless that morrow be the last :
Oh! whither must he turn to find relief
From all the agony of grief?
RECIT. Miss GOODALL.
Go! when the roseate flush of even
Hath ting'd the passing clouds of heaven,
And silence whispers through the air;
Go! seek some solitude, and, bending lowly,
Breathe forth thy troubled soul in ardent pray'r:
That spot is sanctified, that spot is holy,
For God beside thee then is there.
AIR, Miss H. CAWSE.
Then nature doth her stores unfold,
To deck her fairy bowers;
Upon the trees are crowns of gold,
And gems within the flowers:
The massy clouds are in the west,
In many a glowing cluster;
And wood, and hill, and stream are drest
In sun-set's shining lustre ;,
And o'er the wide etherial blue
A mellow veil of richest hue
In gleaming splendour closes;
And all around a purple dew,
As though distill'd from roses,
O'er tree and herb reposes.
And thus adorn'd by Nature's hand,
The sky, and earth, and ocean,
In all their pride and glory stand,
A temple for devotion:
And there's a whisper on the gale,
A murmur in the fountain;
And peace is resting in the vale,
And silence on the mountain.
Above, below, on ev'ry side,
O'er ev'ry spot there seems to glide
A deep and burning feeling,
That spreads its spirit far and wide,
The wounded bosom healing
And the Deity revealing.
RECIT. Miss GOODALL.
And as the vapours dark of night
Are by the sun's bright influence driven
From out the azure field of heaven,
So, on the bosom's gloom, all bright
Will burst religion's blaze of light.
Miss GOODALL, Miss BETTS,
Mr. BRAHAM, Mr. HAWES, Mr. PHILLIPS,
and Mr. BELLAMY.
Whisper, ye breezes, and murmur, ye fountains,
Scatter, ye flowers, your fragrance around:
Rais'd be the valleys, and bowed be the mountains:
"Hail to the Lord!" let all nature resound.
Laud Him, ye mortals, to you it is given
Clearly and nobly to speak in His praise:
Laud Him, ye seraphs and spirits of heaven,
And the loud chorus of gratitude raise.
Hail to Jehovah! Hail! Hail!
The guilty mortal's care-corroded breast
Can know no moment's rest,
To every hope of joy abhorrent:
But with eternal tortures rack'd and worn,
As rage, with madd'ning fury torn,
The foaming waters of a winter torrent.
The pure and pious soul is like the tranquil current, Reflected in whose waves appear
Surrounding objects, undisturb'd and clear.
For as the waters of that still tide
In silent progress serenely glide,
So doth the spirit that knows not ill,
Preserve its tenor all calmly still.
Though passing breezes, or raging storms,
That stream's smooth surface awhile deforms,
Yet when the tempest's brief rage is o'er
'Twill glide as smoothly as e'er before.
And thus in anguish awhile may smart,
By sorrow wounded, the guiltless heart;
But soon will leave it the transient pain,
And gay and lively 'twill throb again.
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