Songs, Duets, Glees, Chorusses, &c. in the Historical Opera of Maid Marian: Or, The Huntress of Arlingford. The Overture and Music Intirely New and Composed by Mr. Bishop

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J. Lowndes, 1822 - 16 páginas
 

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Página 8 - For the slender beech and the sapling oak, That grow by the shadowy rill, You may cut down both at a single stroke, You may cut down which you will. But this you must know, that as long as they grow, Whatever change may be, You never can teach either oak or beech To be aught but a greenwood tree.
Página 15 - H, dost thou, sweet, remember That lone but lovely hour When the stars had met, and the dews had wet Each gently closing flower ; When the moonlit trees waved in the breeze Above the sleeping deer, And we fondly...
Página 15 - When the moon-lit trees waved in the breeze above the sleeping deer, And we fondly stray'd through the greenwood shade, in the springtime of the year. When all was still beneath the bright moon's chaste and quiet eye, Save the ceaseless flow of the stream below 16 O, like an infant's dream of joy, was that sweet from fear as free.
Página 9 - O'er the lake the night-wind steals, About the oak the blind bat wheels, Come sit we round our trysting tree j Daring out-laws as we be.
Página 9 - Lowly monk his bead doth tell. Lordly abbot patters prayer ; *Neath our leafy covering, Let us now our vespers sing. Come troll we catch, and chant we glee, Daring out-laws as we be! Now in lordly castle hall, Baron bold, and gallant knight. For the courtly harpers call. And tread a measure with lady bright. Blither sport in greenwood bower Know we...
Página 9 - Know we ai this moonlight hour ; Come, drink we deep, and feast we free, Daring out-laws as we be ! RISING O'ER THE HEAVING BILLOW RISING o'er the heaving billow, Evening gilds the ocean's swell. While with thee, on grassy pillow, Solitude, I love to dwell. Lonely to the sea-breeze blowing, Oft I chant my love-lorn strain ; To the streamlet sweetly flowing, Murmur oft a lover's pain.
Página 14 - ve a grey friar, Good as heart may desire, To absolve all our sins, as the case may require, Who with courage so stout Lays his oak plant about, And puts to the rout all the foes of his choir ; For we are his choristers, We merry foresters, Chorusing still with our militant friar.
Página 8 - And drowned its toll with the clanging horn, And the only beads he loved to tell, Were beads of dew on the spangled thorn. Though changeful time with hand severe Has made him now those sports forego, His heart still bounds with joy to hear The mellow horn and twanging bow. " Zauberflote,

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