LYRIC POETRY.

GLEE, for 4 Voices.-J. C. CLIFTON.
(Soprano, Alto, Tenor, Bass.)

A BLOSSOM wreath of rich perfume
I for my fairest wove;

She to her beauty gave its bloom,
Its transience to her love.

I sent her then a pearl to prize,
With which she soon did part,
But kept its brilliance in her eyes,
Its hardness in her heart.

(Purday.)

Words by J. M. Divaston.

LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.

GLEE, for 3 Voices.-G. HARGREAVES.

(Soprano, Tenor, Bass.)

A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound,
Cries," Boatman do not tarry,

And I'll give thee this silver pound
To row us o'er the ferry."

B

"And who be ye would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water?"

"Oh! I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter.

"And fast before her father's men, Three days we've fled together; For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather.

"His horsemen hard behind us ride; Should they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride When they have slain her lover?"

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, "I'll go, my chief, I'm ready:

It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady.

"And, by my word, the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry;

So, though the waves are raging white, I'll row ye o'er the ferry."

By this, the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking;
And in the scowl of heaven each face

Grew dark, as they were speaking.

But still, as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.

"Oh, haste thee! haste!" the lady cries;
"Though tempests round us gather;
I'll meet the raging of the skies,

The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her;

When oh! too strong for human hand,
The tempest gather'd o'er her.

And still they rowed amidst the roar,
Of waters fast prevailing;

Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore,
His wrath was changed to wailing.

For sore dismayed, through storm and shade
His child he did discover:

"Come back, come back!" he cried in grief,
"Across this stormy water;

And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter! O my daughter!"

"Twas vain! the loud waves lash'd the shore,

Return or aid preventing:

The waters wild went o'er his child,

And he was left lamenting.

(Hawes.)

Words by Campbell.

GLEE, for 4 Voices and Chorus.-H. R. BISHOP, M.B.

(Alto, 2 Tenors, Bass.)

A CUP of wine, that 's brisk and fine,
And drink unto the leman mine!

Then for the chace and falconers cry!
Come fill the cup, O fill it up,
Down to the bottom freely sup!
Wine gives the slave his liberty.

Be merry, be merry, my wife has all;

For women are shrews, both short and tall:
Tis
merry
in hall when beards wag all,
And welcome, merry Christmas!

Bishop's Collection, (D' Almaine).

Words by Shakspere.

EPIGRAM, for 4 Voices.-W. JACKSON.

(2 Sopranos, Tenor, Bass.)

ADAM alone could not be easy,

So he must have a wife, and please ye!

But how could he procure that wife,

To be the solace of his life?

How? how?

Out of a rib, sir, from his side,

Was formed the needful useful bride;

But how did he the pain beguile?

How? how?