The American musical miscellany; a collection of the newest and most approved songs, set to music. New introd. by H. Wiley Hitchcock.
New York, Da Capo Press, 1972.
|Location||Call Number||Status||Consortium Loan|
Music Library Reference (non-circ),Katzen Arts Ctr.
|M2 .E15 v.9||Available|
Mullen Library stacks Music
|M2.3.U5 E3 1972, v.9||Available||Request|
Fenwick Music - Scores
Songs -- United States.
Earlier American music, 9
xii, 300 p. 22 cm.
"An unabridged republication of the first edition published in Northampton, Massachusetts, in 1798."
For voice and piano; in part unacc. melodies.
A sailor's life's a life of woe -- A plague of those musty old lubbers -- Ah! why must words my flame reveal -- Attention pray give -- Ah! Delia, see the fatal hour -- Anacreon, they say, was a jolly old blade -- Adieu, adieu my only life -- As on a lonely hill I stray'd -- As t'other day in harmless chat -- As Cupid in a garden stray'd -- At the close of the day -- A shape alone let others prize -- Adieu, ye groves -- Bright Phœbus has mounted the chariot of day -- Bright Sol at length by Thetis woo'd -- Bright dawns the day, with rosy face -- Come now all ye social pow'rs -- Cease rude Boreas -- Come all ye sons of song -- Come rouse brother sportsman -- Cease ye fountains, cease to murmur -- Come loose eve'ry sail to the breeze -- Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise -- Come buy of poor Kate -- Diogenes surly and proud -- Dear Nancy I've sail'd the world all around -- Encompass'd in an angel's frame -- Fresh and strong the breeze is blowing -- For England when with fav'ring gale -- From place to place I travers'd long -- Forever fortune, wilt thou prove -- Forbear my friends, forbear and ask no more -- Friendship, to ev'ry willing mind -- Go patter to lubbers -- Here a sheer hulk -- Her sheep had in clusters -- How happy the soldier.
Hail! America hail! -- How blest has my time been -- How brimful of nothing's the life of a beau -- Hark, the din of distant war -- I that once was a ploughman -- In the praise of queen Bess -- If to force me to sing -- If ever a sailor was fond of good sport -- If life's rough path, as the sages have said -- If you find out his lair -- Little insect that on high -- Let ev'ry pagan muse be gone -- Leander on the bay -- My friends all declare that my time is mispent -- Never till now I knew love's smart -- Now let rich music found -- O! thou lov'd country -- Oh! think on my fate -- On sturdy stout Dobbin -- On Afric's wide plains -- O'er barren hills, and flow'ry dales -- Oh! say simple maid -- Poll, dang'it how d'ye do? -- Peaceful slumb'ring on the ocean -- Return enraptur'd hours -- Rise, my Delia, heav'nly charmer -- Says Plato, why should man be vain -- See the course throng'd with gazers -- See now the blust'ring Boreas blows -- Since then I'm doom'd this sad reverse to prove -- The spring time returns -- The dusky night rides down the sky -- The echoing horn calls the sportsman abroad -- Twas summer, and softly -- The heavy hours are almost past -- To Batchelor's hall we good fellows invite -- Too soon my dearest Sophia -- The fields were green.
To ease his heart, and own his flame -- The day is departed, and round from the cloud -- 'Twas past meridian, half past four -- 'Twas near a thicket's calm retreat -- To my muse give attention -- Tho' oft we meet severe distress -- There was a jolly miller -- The sun sets at night -- The meadows look cheerful -- 'Twas Saturday night -- 'Tis done! the edict past -- Though distant far from Jessy's charms -- The streamlet that flow'd round her cot -- The moon had clim'd the highest hill -- 'Twas within a mile of Edinburgh town -- 'Twas when the seas were roaring -- Tom Tackle was noble -- The cheek enros'd with crimson dye -- Tho' Bacchus may boast -- To music be the verse addrest -- When bidden to the wake or fair -- When first I slipp'd my leading strings -- When thrist of gold enslaves the mind -- When first the sun, o'er ocean glow'd -- When first I saw thee, graceful move -- When faries trip round the gay green -- When my fortune does frown -- Was I reduc'd to beg my bread -- Well met, my loving friends of art -- What sorrowful sounds do I hear -- Why should our joys transform to pain? -- When Alcides, the son of Olympian Jove -- Ye sons of Columbia -- Young Myra is fair -- Ye mortals whom fancies.
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