The Travellers, Or, Music's Fascination: An Operatic Drama

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Proprietors, 1823 - 59 pages
 

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Page 52 - WHEN Britain first, at Heaven's command, Arose from out the azure main, This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung the strain: Rule, Britannia, rule the waves, Britons never will be slaves.
Page 41 - I'll come to thee, When the glad trumpet sounds a victory ! Battle now with fury glows; Hostile blood in torrents flows; His duty tells him to depart; She pressed her hero to her heart ; And now the trumpet sounds to arms; Amid the clash of rude alarms — Sweet maid ! he cries, again I'll come to thee, When the glad trumpet sounds a victory!
Page 4 - Than forget to thee the gratitude I owe. Unvarying with the varied change, Through coast or climate as we range ; No, no, no, no, no, no, mother, no, I'll ne'er forget the love — the gratitude I owe.
Page 40 - Cupid he whimper'd, he sobb'd, and he sigh'd, Then ran to his mother, and pettishly cry'd, " Ah Venus, dear mother ! I'm wounded you see, " And I ask for revenge on the mischievous bee.
Page 42 - ... alarms — Sweet maid, he cries, again I'll come to thee, When the glad trumpet sounds a victory ! He with love and conquest burns, Both subdue his mind by turns ! Death the soldier, now, enthrals ! With his wounds the hero falls ! She, disdaining war's alarms, Rushed, and caught him in her arms ! Oh ! death, he cries, thou'rt welcome now to me ! For, hark ! the trumpet sounds a victory ! THE BAY OF BISCAY.
Page 19 - They'd more excell than we. And yet the Senses every one As men should pictured be, To make it known that women are Less sensual than we. Why are the Virtues every one Pictur'd as women be ; If not to shew that they in them Do more excell...
Page 3 - I'd sooner part, Than forget to thee the gratitude I owe. Unvarying with varied change, Through coast or climate, as we range. No, no, no, no, no, mother, no, I'll ne'er forget the love, the gratitude I owe. Blythe as the rays that cheer the blushing morn...
Page 4 - Blithe as the rays that cheer the blushing morn, Puls'd in this heart, dear sister, dost thou move, Blest with each charm that can thy sex adorn, Yet, sister, oh, dear sister, beware of love! Unvarying with the varied change, Through coast or climate as we range ; Yes, yes, yes, yes; oh, sister, yes, eware of love f oh, sister, beware of love ! Be
Page 41 - HE was fam'd for deeds of arms, She a maid of envied charms, Now to him her love imparts, One pure flame pervades both hearts : Honour calls him to the field, Love to conquest now must yield: Sweet maid, he cries, again I'll come to thee, When the glad trumpet sounds a victory. Battle now with fury glows, Hostile blood in torrents flows ! His duty tells him to depart, She prest the hero to her heart.

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