THE WOLF.

down-y sleep; Then our careful watch we keep, Then our care-ful

watch we keep;

rob, and plunder; to rifle, rob, and plun-der; to rifle, rob, and plan-der.

Or be deaf when her plaintive appealings
Might awaken the dead from their tomb!-
The dead from the tomb, &c.

for your coun-try to die! die! Yes, cheerfully die! die! Yes! O! how base and degraded the feelings That would shrink from her accents of gloom,

THE SAVOYARD'S RETURN.

The Words by Henry Kirke White; the Music by J. Addison.-Published by Cramer, Addison, and Beale. Allegretto.

ma-ny a tale of what I've heard Shall wear a-way the winter

Of distant climes the false report
It lur'd me from my native land;
It bade me rove-my sole support
My cymbals and my saraband.
The woody dell, the hanging rock,

eve.

The chamois skipping o'er the heights, The plain adorn'd with many a flock, And oh! a thousand more delights,

That grace yon dear belov'd retreat,
Have backward won my weary feet.

Andante.

THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET.

The Music by Frederic Smith.

脚

i-ron-bound bucket,

The moss-cover'd bucket, which hung in the well,
And now, far remov'd from the lov'd situation,
The tear of regret will intrusively swell,
As fancy reverts to my father's plantation,
And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well;
The old oaken bucket, &c.

That moss-cover'd vessel I hail as a treasure,
For often at noon, when return'd from the field,
I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,
The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.

POOR MR.

SPRIGGS.

The Words by Thomas Dibdin; the Music by W. Reeve.

Allegretto.

please the pigs. Poor Mister Spriggs!
Mrs. Spriggs gave parties to tea and to dinner,
And play'd guinea whist, tho' she ne'er was a winner;
Poor Mr. Spriggs!

She lov'd silver muslin, French lace, and rich stuffs,
Pelisses and tippets, and Chinchilli muffs,
And some say she lov'd Captain Brown of the Buffs.-
Poor Mr. Spriggs!

Mr. Spriggs and his wife fell out one night,
And she vow'd she'd drown herself out of mere spite-
To poor Mr. Spriggs!

She ran to the river, but when she walk'd in,

O, poor Mis-ter Spriggs!
Her courage grew cool as the wave touch'd her chin,
And drowning herself she thought was a sin;
Poor Mr. Spriggs!

A fisherman saw her, and thought she'd be wet,-
So he pull'd Sally out by a cast of his net;

Poor Mr. Spriggs!

Took her home half drown'd to her anxious dear, Who cried, when he saw she was looking so queer 'Pray, sir, why the devil did you interfere

With poor Mrs. Spriggs.'

O, poor Mr. Spriggs!

THE HUMBLE THATCH'D COTTAGE, IN THE VILLAGE OF

LOVE.

Written by a Gentleman; the Music by J. Sanderson.

Far re-mov'd from the town, From its splen-dour and noise, Tho' for-tune may frown, It our

peace ne'er destroys; Con-vinc'd that true plea-sure we only can

hum-ble thatch'd cottage, In the vil-lage of Love; The hum-ble thatch'd cottage, The

The humble thatch'd cot-tage, In the village of Love.

DER TRINKER, THE TIPPLER.

The Poetry translated from the German of Langbein; the Music by C. Walther.
Allegretto con espress.

I and my bottle, we'-re always u-1
-ni-ted,-No one keeps clo-ser a friend-ship than we;

Though by mis-for-tune my hopes should be blighted, Soothingly still talks my

bottle to me. Cluck cluck cluck cluck cluck cluck cluck cluck cluck cluck cluck!

TAK YER AULD CLOAK ABOOT YE.
Old Scotch Melody, as sung by Mr. Wilson.

In win-ter, when the rain rain'd cauld, And frost and snaw on ilka

SAW YE AUGHT O' MY LOVE.
The Poetry by Thomas Dibdin.

by his side; 'Twould do ye good to see him ride, With a' his troop in or