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What Saul by disobedience lost.

The Lord of hosts is David's friend,
And conquest will his arms attend.

GLEE.

Masters TIDMAN and CARTER, and

Messrs. HALDON and LIDDELL.

Horsley.

See the chariot at hand here of love,

Wherein my lady rideth;

Each that draws is a swan or a dove,
And well the car love guideth.

As she goes all hearts do duty

Unto her beauty;

And enamour'd do wish (so they might
But enjoy such a sight)

That they still were to run by her side

Thro' swords, thro' seas, whither she would ride.

Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
Before rude hands have pluckt it?
Ha' you mark'd but the fall of the snow,
Before the soil hath smutch'd it?
Ha' you felt the wool o' the beaver,
Or swan's down ever?

Or have tasted the bag o' the bee?

Oh! so white, so soft, so sweet is she.

SONG. Miss HAINES.

I wander'd once at break of day,
While yet upon the sunless sea,
In wanton sighs the breeze delay'd,
And o'er the wavy surface play'd:
Then first the fairest face I knew,
First lov'd the eye of softest blue,
And ventur'd, fearful, first to sip
The sweets that hung upon the lip
Of faithless Emina.

Stevenson.

So mix'd the rose and lily's white,
That nature seem'd uncertain quite,

To deck her cheek, what flower she'd choose,
The lily or the blushing rose !

I wish I ne'er had seen her eye,

Ne'er seen her cheek of doubtful dye,

And never, never dar'd to sip

The sweets that hung upon the lip

Of faithless Emma.

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(Accompanied on the Violoncello by Mr. REINAGLE.)

Gentle airs, melodious strains,

Call for raptures out of woe;
Lull the regal mourner's pains,
Sweetly soothe her as you flow.

1st GRAND CONCERTO.

Handel.

GLEE. Masters TIDMAN and CARTER, and

Messrs. HALDON and LIDDELL.

From Oberon, in fairy land,

The king of ghosts and shadows there,

We fairies all, at his command,

Are sent to view the night sports here.

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Stevens.

And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho!

When lads and lasses merry be,

With possets and with juncates fine;
Unseen of all the company,

We eat their cakes and sip their wine.
O then what sport!

The wine runs short,

The blushing cheeks with anger glow;

Their cakes they miss,

And shriek, who's this?

We answer nought, but ho, ho, ho!

By wells and rills, in meadows green,
We nightly dance our hey-dey guise;

And to our fairy king and queen,

We chaunt our moon-light minstrelsies.

I

SONG.

Fiends, ghosts, and sprites,
Who haunt the nights,

The hags and goblins do us know;

And beldames old

Our feats have told,

So frolic it, with ho, ho, ho!

Miss HAINES.

'Twas at night when the bell had toll'd twelve,

And poor Susan was laid on her pillow,
In her ear whisper'd some flitting elve,
"Your love is now toss'd on a billow”—
Far, far at sea.

All was dark, as she woke out of breath,
Not an object her fears could discover;
All was still as the silence of death,
Save fancy, which painted her lover-

Far, far at sea.

So she whisper'd a pray'r, clos'd her eyes,
But the phantom still haunted her pillow;
Whilst in terror she echoed his cries,
As struggling he sunk in a billow-

FINALE.

Florio.

Far, far at sea.

Pleyel.

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