DOWN AMONG THE DEAD MEN.
An old English Air.-Published by Davidson.

Moderato e con Spirito.

down a-mong the dead men, down, down, down, down, down a-mong the dead men let him lie.

Let charming beauty's health go round.

In whom celestial joys are found;

And may confusion still pursue

The senseless women-hating crew;
And they that women's health deny,
Down among the dead men let them lie.

May love and wine their rites maintain,
And their united pleasures reign!

While Bacchus' treasure crowns the board,
We'll sing the joys that both afford!
And they that won't with us comply,
Down among the dead men let them lie.

YOUNG ELLEN LORAINE.
Composed by Alexander Lee.

When I part-ed from E-rin, heart-bro-ken to leave thee, I dream'd not of falsehood, young

why art thou faith -less, young El-len Lo-raine? I lov'd thee in sorrow,

sought thee

in danger, And dear was the pe- ril, and sweet was the pain; But PPP ad lib.

now is thy look as the look of a stranger,-Ah! why art thou faithless, young El-len Lo-raine!

O! thou wert the vision that brighten'd my pillow,
The star of my darkness, young Ellen Loraine;
As the bloom to the rose, as the sun to the billow,
Thou cam'st to my slumber, young Ellen Loraine!
Thou'lt think of me yet, when the false world de-
ceives thee,

And friends of gay fortune look cold on thy wane;
When the sheen of thy cheek like the summer-light
leaves thee,
[raine!
Thou'lt think how I lov'd thee, young Ellen Lo-

O! speak not to me-in those eyes I discover
The wrongs thou hast done me, young Ellen Lo-
raine!

Go, rest in the arms of a happier lover ;

Go, lovely, but faithless, young Ellen Loraine!
The moments of rapture, the vow and the token,
They thrill in my bosom, and burn in my brain!
Go, false one, and laugh at the heart thou hast
broken;-

Go, lovely, but faithless, young Ellen Loraine!

tree: While roses

are sleep-ing, And night-dews are weep-ing, And Ella is

3

sun's gold -en ray, With their o-dour will pay The light heart that is free: But more do I

Rall.

Soft ev'n-ing's sighs, When El-la's bright eyes are beam-ing on me! When
Rall.

El-la's bright eyes are beam-ing on me! Then, haste with thy light, La- dy of night!

>

ritard.

a tempo.

Shed thy soft beams o-ver streamlet and tree: While ro - ses are sleep-ing, And night-dews are

Pray, Goody, please to mo-de-rate the ran-cour of your tongue; Why flash those sparks of

fu. - ry from your eyes? Re-mem-ber, when the judg-ment's weak, the prejudice

strong,-A stran -ger why will you des-pise? Ply me, try me, Prove e'er you de-ny me:

If you cast me off, you will blast me, ne- ver more to rise. Pray, Goo-dy, please to

FILL, FILL, TILL THE GLASS RUNS O'ER.

The Bacchanalian Song from Weber's Opera of Der Freyschutz; the Poetry by George Soane, A.B.
Published by Davidson.
Allegro Feroce.

Fill, fill, till the glass runs o'er! He's a king, and something more,

Let gay ones and great make the most of their fate, From plea-sure to plea-sure they