THE MAD LOVER. ALEXANDER BROOME, born 1620, died 1666. I HAVE been in love, and in debt, and in drink, And those three plagues are enough, one would think, 'Twas drink made me fall into love, And love made me run into debt; And though I have struggled and struggled and strove, I cannot get out of them yet. There's nothing but money can cure me, And my mistress that cannot endure me, Then I'll fall to loving and drinking again. THE MAD SHEPHERDESS. My lodging is on the cold ground, Yet still I cry, Oh, turn, love, And I prithee, love, turn to me; With a garland of straw I will crown thee, I'll marry thee with a rush ring; My frozen hopes shall thaw then, And merrily we will sing. Oh, turn to me my dear love, And I prithee, love, turn to me; For thou art the man who alone canst R But if thou wilt harden thy heart still, This song [of which the air is claimed both by the Scotch and the Irish, but which is undoubtedly English, and which has been rendered familiar to modern ears by the beau tiful version in Moore's Irish Melodies-"Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,"] was introduced into Davenant's comedy of "The Rivals," 1668; but it is probably still older. The phrase "to marry with a rush ring," is introduced in the ancient ballad of "The Winchester Wedding :"— "And Tommy was loving to Kitty, meaning a marriage without the rites of religion, and to be dissolved at the will of the parties as easily as a rush ring may be broken. TOM A BEDLAM, OR MAD TOM. WILLIAM BASSE; from "The English Dancing Master." FORTH from my dark and dismal cell, Mad Tom is come to view the world again, Fears and cares oppress my soul: Through the world I wander night and day, In angry mood I meet old Time, When me he spies, away he flies, For time will stay for no man: In vain with cries I rend the skies, Cold and comfortless I lie: Hark! I hear Apollo's team, And the boar begins to bristle. Come, Vulcan, with tools and with tackle, Last night I heard the dog-star bark; Mars with his weapon laid about; Mercury, the nimble post of heaven, To me he drank whole butts, But mine was ne'er the wider. Poor Tom is very dry— A little drink for charity. Hark! I hear Acteon's hounds, The man in the moon drinks claret, Will fire the bush at his back. "The words of the latter half of this song are not now sung. Another song, set by George Baden, also called 'Mao Tom,' has een stitched' upon it."-CHAPPELL. The music of" Mad Tom" has been attributed generally to Henry Purcell, but it is not to be found in his "Orpheus Britannicus." THE DISTRACTED LOVER. HENRY CAREY. I Go to the Elysian shade, Where sorrow ne'er shall wound me; I fly from Celia's cold disdain, She is the cause of all my pain, For her alone I die. Her eyes are brighter than the mid-day sun, See yonder river's flowing tide, Those streams that do so swiftly glide There I have wept till I could weep no more, And curst my eyes, when they have wept their store : Then, like the clouds, that rob the azure main, I've drained the flood to weep it back again. The "Distracted Lover" was written by Henry Carey, a celebrated composer of music at the beginning of the eighteenth century, and author of several little theatrical entertainments, which are enumerated in "The Companion to the Playhouse." &c. The sprightliness of this songster's fancy could not preserve him from a very melancholy catastrophe, which was effected by his own hand.-PERCY. OLD MAD TOM. From "The Thrush," 1749. I'M old mad Tom, behold me! I'll mount the frosty mountain, I'll mount the stairs of marble, |