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A GRAND SYMPHONY.

Accompanied with marrow-bones and cleavers.

AIR.

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Hark, how the banging marrow-bones
Make clanging cleavers ring,

With a ding dong, ding dong,

Ding dong, ding dong,
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding.
Raise your uplifted arms on high ;
In 1ong-prolonged tones

Let cleavers found

A merry merry round
By banging marrow-bones.

FULL CHORUS.

Hark, how the banging marrow-bones

Make clanging cleavers ring ;
With a ding dong, ding dong,
Ding dong, ding dong,

Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong, ding.
Raise your uplifted arms on high;
In long-prolonged tones

Let cleavers found
A merry merry

ronnd
By banging marrow-bones.

RECIT.

RECIT. Accompanied.

Cease lighter numbers: Hither bring
The undulating ftring

Stretch'd out, and to the tumid bladder
In amity harmonious bound;

Then deeper fwell the notes and fadder,
And let the hoarse bass flowly folemn found.

A I. R.

With dead, dull, doleful, heavy hums,
With mournful moans,

And grievous groans,
The fober* hurdy-gurdy thrums.

PART II.

RECIT. Accompanied.

W Motion, fenfe, and life inspire;

ITH magic founds, like thefe, did Orpheus' lyre

When, as he play'd, the lift'ning flood

Still'd its loquacious waves, and silent stood;

The trees swift-bounding danc'd with loofen'd stumps, And fluggish ftones caper'd in active jumps.

AIR.

Each ruddy-breasted robbin

The concert bore a bob in,

* This inftrument, by the learned, is fometimes called a

humftrum.

And

And ev'ry hooting owl around;
The croaking frogs,

The grunting hogs,

All, all confpir'd to raise th' enliv'ning found.

RECITATIVE.

Now to Cæcilia, heav'nly maid,
Your loud united voices raife,

With folemn hymns to celebrate her praise,
Each inftrument shall lend its aid.

The falt-box with clattering and clapping fhall found,
The iron lyre

Buzzing twang with wav'ring wire,
With heavy hum

The fober hurdy-gurdy thrum,

And the merry merry marrow-bones ring round.

LAST GRAND CHORUS.

Such matchless strains Cæcilia knew,
When audience from their heav'nly sphere,
By harmony's ftrong pow'r, fhe drew,
Whilft lift'ning angels gladly stoop'd to hear.

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*

**

ADVICE TO THE MARQUIS OF ROCKINGHAM,

UPON A LATE OCCASION.

WRITTEN IN 1765, BY AN OLD COURTIER.

WELL

TELL may they, Wentworth, call thee young,

What hear and feel! fift right from wrongs
And to a wretch be kind !
Old statesmen would reverse your plan,
Sink, in the minister, the man,

And be both deaf and blind !

If thus, my lord, your heart o'erflows,
Know you, how many mighty foes

Such weakness will create you?
Regard not what Fitzherbert says,
For tho' you gain each good man's praise,

We older folks shall hate you.

7

You should have sent, the other day,
Gk, the player, with frowns away,

Your smiles but made him bolder ;
Why would you hear his strange appeal,
Which dar'd to make a statesman feel :

I would that you were older!

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You should be proud, and seem difpleas'd

Or

you for ever will be teaz'd,

Your house with beggars haunted:
What, ev'ry fuitor kindly us'd?
If wrong, their folly is excus'd,

If right, their fuit is granted.

From preffing crowds of great and small,
To free yourself, give hopes to all,

And fail nineteen in twenty:

What, wound my honour, break my word!
You're young again-You may, my lord,
Have precedents in plenty !

Indeed, young ftatefman, 'twill not do,-
Some other ways and means pursue,

More fitted to your station!

What from your boyish freaks can spring?
Mere toys! The favour of your king,
And love of all the nation.

BRYAN AND PEREEN E.

A WEST INDIAN BALLAD;

FOUNDED ON A REAL FACT, THAT HAPPENED A FEW YEARS AGO IN THE ISLAND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER,

HE north-eaft wind did briskly blow,

THE

The ship was fafely moor'd,

Young Bryan thought the boat's crew flow,
And fo leapt over-board.

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