Let the glancing lightning flash,
Let the pealing thunder dash.
'Tis the welcome April show'r
Bringing forth the sweet May flow'r.
Patter, patter! Let it pour;
Patter, patter! Let it roar.

Soon the clouds will burst away,

Soon will come a bright spring day.
"Tis the welcome April show'rs,
Which bring forth the sweet May flow'rs.

THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER. T. MOORE.]

[Irish Melody
Tis the last rose of summer

Lest blooming alone;
All her lovely companions

Are faded and gone ;
No flower of her kindred,

No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,

Or give sigh for sigh.
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one,

To pine on thy stem ;
Since the lovely are sleeping,

Go, sleep'thou with them;
Thus kindly I scatter

Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden

Lie scentless and dead.
So soon may I follow,

When friendship decay,
And from love's shining circle

The gems drop away!
When true hearts lie wither'd,

And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit

This bleak world alone!

IN GOING TO MY LONELY BED.

[J[usic by R. EDWARDS.]
In going to my lonely bed,

As one that would have slept,
I heard a wife sing to her child,

That long had moan'd and wept.
She sighed sore, and sang full sweet,

To lull the babe to rest;
That would not cease, but cried still

Upon its mother's breast.
She was full weary of her watch,

And grieved with her child;
She rock'd it, and rated it,

'Till that on her it smiled.
Then did she say, “ Now have I found

This proverb true doth prove:
The falling out of faithful friends

Renewing is of love."

WHO IS SYLVIA ?

SEAKSPEARE.]

[Music by BISHOP, Who is Sylvia? what is she,

That all our swaius commend her?
Holy, fair, and wise is she ;

The heavens such grace did lend her,
That she might admired be.
Is she kind as she is fair ?

For beauty lives with kindness:
Love doth to her eyes repair,

To help him of his blindness,
And, being help'd, inhabits here.

Then to Sylvia let us sing,

That Sylvia is excelling;
She excels each mortal thing

Upon the dull earth dwelling.

a

me,

DOWN IN A FLOWERY VALE.

[Music by C. FESTA.]
Down in a flow'ry vale, all on a summer morning,
Phillis I spied, fair Nature's self a lorning;
Swiftly on wings of love I flew to meet her,
Coldly she welcomed when I did greet her.

I warbled thus my ditty :
“O, shepherdess! have pity,
And hear a faithful lover

His passion true discover.
Ah! why art thou to me so cruel ?"
Then straight replied my jewel :-
"If gold thou hast, fond youth, 'twill speed thy suing;
But if thy purse be empty, come not to me a wooing."

THE HEART THAT CAN FEEL FOR

ANOTHER. UPTON.]

[Music by W. SHIBLD. Jack Steadfast and I were both messmates at sea,

And plough'd half the world o'er together,
And many hot battles encounter'd have we,

Strange climates, and all kind of weather.
But seamen, you know, are inured to hard gales,

Determined to stand by each other ;
And the boast of a tar, wheresoever he sails,

Is the heart that can feel for another.
When often suspended 'twixt water and sky,

And death yawn'd on all sides around us, Jack Steadfast and I scorn’d to murmur or sigh,

For danger could never confound us.

Smooth seas and rough billows to us were the same,

Convinced we must brave one and t'other; And like jolly sailors in life's chequer'd game,

Give the heart that can feel for another. Thus smiling at peril at sea or on shore,

We boxed the old compass right cheerly; Toss'd the can, boys, about—and a word or two more,

Yes, drank to the girls we loved dearly; For sailors, pray mind me, though strange kind of fish,

Love the girls just as dear as their mother; And, what's more, they love, what I hope you all wish,

'Tis the heart that can feel for another.

THE LOVER'S PROMISE.

[T. DIBDIN.]
The sun its bright rays may withhold, love,

Unreflected the moonbeams may be,
But ne'er, till this bosom is cold, love,

Shall its pulse throb for any but thee
For thou art the joy of my heart, love,

Thy beanty all beauties outvie;
And ere with thine image I'll part, love,

Thy lover, thy husband, would die.
The spring's lovely verilure may turn, love,

To autumn's sad colourless hue ;
The winter like summer may burn, love,
Ere my ardour it lessens for you :

For thou art the joy, &c.

THE KISS.

[Byron.]
The kiss, dear maid, thy lips have left,

Shall never part from mine,
Till happier hours restore the gift

Untainted back to thiine.

M

The parting glance that fondly gleams,

An equal love may see,
The tear that from the eyelid streams
Can weep no change in me.

The kiss, &c

a

1 ask no pledge to make me blest,

In gazing when alone;
Nor one memorial for a breast,

Whose thoughts are all thine owne
By day or night, in weal or woe,

That heart no longer free,
Must hear the love it cannot show,
And silent ache for thee.

The kiss, &c.

JUST LIKE LOVE.
Lord STRANGFORD.]

[Music by JOHN DAVY,
Just like love is yonder rose,
Heavenly fragrance round it' throws.
Yet tears its dewy leaves disclose,
And in the midst of briers it blows,

Just like love.

Cull'd, to bloom upon the breast,
Since rough thorns the stem invest;
They must be gather'd with the rest,
And with it must the heart be press'd,

Just like love.

And when rude hands the twin-buds sever,
They dic-and they shall blossom never,
Yet the thorns be sharp as ever,
Yet the thorns be sharp as ever,

Just like love.