England! thy beauties are tame and domestic,

To one who has roamed on the mountains afar: O! for the crags that are wild and majestic, The steep, frowning glories of dark Loch-na-garr.

BEAUTIFUL VENICE.

Music-at Z. T. Purday's.
BEAUTIFUL Venice!-

City of song-
What mem'ries of old

To thy regions belong
What sweet recollections
Cling to my heart,
As thy fast fading shores
From my vision depart.
Oh, poesy's home

Is thy light colonades,
Where the winds gently sigh,
As the sweet twilight fades!
I have known many homes,
But the dwelling for me--
Is beautiful Venice,

The bride of the sea!

Beautiful Venice !

Queen of the earth

Where dark eyes shine brightly
'Mid music and mirth:
Where gay serenaders,
By light of the star,
Often mingle their songs
With the dulcet guitar.
All that's lovely in life-

All that's deathless in song-
Fair Italy's isles

To thy regions belong.

I have known many homes,

But the dwelling for me

Is beautiful Venice,

The bride of the sea!

BEGONE DULL CARE.

Music at T. J. Purday's, 45, Holborn.

DUET.

BEGONE dull care, I prythee begone from me,
Begone dull care, thou and I shall never agree;
Long time thou hast been tarrying here,
And fain thou would'st me kill,

But i'faith dull care,

Thou never shalt have thy will.

Too much care will turn a young man grey,
Too much care will turn an old man to clay,
My wife shall dance and I will sing,

So merrily pass the day,

For I hold it one of the wisest things
To drive dull care away.

BEN BACKSTAY.

Music-at Duncomb's, Middle-Row, Holborn,

BEN Backstay loved the gentle Anna
Constant as purity was she;

Her honey words, like succ'ring manna,
Cheered him each voyage he made to sea.
One fatal morning saw them parting:
While each the other's sorrow dried,
They, by the tear that then was starting,
Vowed they'd be constant till they died.

At distance from his Anna's beauty,
While roaring winds the sea deform,
Ben sings, and well performs his duty,
And braves for love the frightful storm.
Alas! in vain :-the vessel, battered,
On a rock splitting, opened wide;
While, lacerated, torn and shattered,
Ben thought of Anna, sighed and died.

D

The semblance of each lovely feature,
That Ben had worn around his neck,
Where art stood substitute for nature,

A tar, his friend, saved from the wreck.
In fervent hope while Anna, burning,

Blushed as she wished to be a bride,
The portrait came, joy turned to mourning,
She saw, grew pale, sunk down and died.

BEN BLOCK WAS A VETERAN.
Music-at Wybrow's.

BEN BLOCK was a vet'ran of naval renown

And renown was his only reward;

For the board still neglected his merits to crown,
As no interest he held with my lord.

Yet as brave as old Benbow was sturdy old Ben,
And he'd laugh at the cannon's loud roar,

When the death-dealing broadside made worms'meat of men,

And the scuppers were streaming with gore Nor could a lieutenant's poor stipend provoke, The staunch tar to despise scanty prog: For his biscuit he'd break, turn his quid, crack his joke, And drown care in a jorum of grog.

Thus, year after year, in a subaltern state,

Poor Ben for his king fought and bled,

Till time had unroof'd all the thatch from his pate, And the hair from his temples had fled.

[hair

[said,

When on humbly saluting, with sinciput bare,
A First Lord of the Admiralty once,
Quoth his lordship, “ Lieutenant, you've lost all your
Since I last had a peep at your sconce."
"Why, my lord,” replied Pen, "it with truth may be
While a bald pate I long have stood under,
There have so many captains walk'd over my head,
That to see me quite scalp'd 'twere no wonder !"

BID ME DISCOURSE.

Music-at D'Almain's, Soho Square.

BID me discourse, I will enchant thine ear,
Or like a fairy trip upon the green;

Or like a nymph, with bright and flowing hair,
Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen.

BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND. Music-at Duncomb's, Middle-Row, Holborn. BLOW, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude:

Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky!
Thou canst not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:

Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remembered not.

RED-CROSS KNIGHT.

BLOW, Warder, blow thy sounding horn,
And thy banner wave on high;

For the Christians have fought in the holy land,
And have won the victory.

Loud the Warder blew his horn,

And his banner waved on high;
Let the mass be sung,

And the bells be rung,
And the feast eat merrily.

The Warder looked from the tower on high,
As far as he could see:

"I see a bold knight, and by his red cross
He comes from the east country."
Then loud the warder blew his horn,
And called till he was hoarse,

Let the mass be sung, &c.

"I see a bold knight, and on his shield bright He beareth a flaming cross."

Then down the lord of the castle came,

The Red-cross Knight to meet;

And when the Red-cross Knight he spied,
Right loving he did him greet.

Thou'rt welcome here, dear Red-cross Knight,

For thy fame's well known to me;
And the mass shall be sung,
And the bells shall be rung,

And we'll feast right merrily.

BOLD JACK, THE SAILOR, HERE I COME.

BOLD Jack, the sailor, here I come,

Pray how d'ye like my nib,
My trowsers wide, my trampers rum,
My nab, and flowing jib?

I sails the seas from end to end,
And leads a joyous life:

In every mess I finds a friend,
In every port a wife.

I've heard them talk of constancy,
Of grief, and such like fun:
I've constant been to ten, cried I,
But never grieved for one.
The flowing sails we tars unbend,
To lead a jovial life:

In every mess to find a friend,
In every port a wife.