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TITLE.

PUBLISHER PAGE I miss thy kind and gentle Voice

L. Williams 253 Come o'er the Tide.

Duff and Co....... 253 The Bridge of Sighs

Ditto

254 Black Eyes or Blue....

Cumpbell 255 Oh! say not Woman's Heart is bought... Leoni Lee 256 The Falconer's Son......

Duff and Co...... 256 The old English Gentleman

C. H. Purday

257 Stir the Fire

Duff and Co....... 258 Black-eyed Susan

Various

259 Song of the Past...

Jefferys

260 The Vacant Places

R. Cocks and Co, 261 Winter

D' Almaine & Co. 262 The Queen of the Flowers

J. Williams

262 Oh! no, we never mention her

D' Almaine f Co. 263 The Sea.

Cramer and Co.. 264 The brave Old “Temeraire"

Duff and Co....... 265

TIIE BOOK

OF

MODERN SONGS.

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!

God save our gracious Queen!
Long may Victoria reign :

God save the Queen !
Send her victorious,
Happy, and glorious,
Long to reign over us,

God save the Queen!
O Lord our God arise,
Scatter her enemies,

And make them fall.
Confound their politics;
Frustrate their knavish tricks;
On Thee our hopes we fix:

God save the Queen !
Thy choicest gifts in store
On her be pleased to pour,

Long may she reign!
May she defend our laws,
And ever give us cause
To sing with heart and voice,
God save the Queen !

B

RULE BRITANNIA. JAMES THOMSON.]

[Music by Dr. ARNE. When Britain, first, at Heaven's command,

Arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter of the land,
Anl guardian angels sang this strain :

Rule Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves !
Britons never shall be slaves.

The nations not so blest as thee

Must, in their turn, to tyrants fall; While thou shalt flourish great and free, The dread and envy of them all.

Rule Britannia, &c.

Still mbre majestic shalt thou rise,

More dreadful from each foreign stroke; As the loud blast that tears the skies Serves but to root thy native oak.

Rule Britannia, &c.

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame;

All their attempts to pull thee down
Will but arouse thy gen'rous flame,
But work their woe and thy renown.

Rule Britannia, &c.
To thee belongs the rural reign;

Thy cities shall with commerce shine :
All thine shall be the subject main,
And ev'ry shore it circles thine.

Rule Britannia, &c.
The Muses, still with freedom found,

Shall to thy happy coasts repair,
Blest isle, with matchless beauty crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.

Rule Britannia, &c.

SEE THE CONQUERING HERO COMES! (From the Oratorio of " Judas Maccabæus.")

Music by HANDEL.
See the conquering hero comes,
Sound the trumpet, beat the drums;
Sports prepare, the laurel bring,
Songs of triumph to him sing.
See the godlike youth advance,
Breathe the flutes and lead the dance
Myrtle wreaths and roses twine,
To deck the hero's brow divine.

THE HAPPY VALLEY. THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY.]

[Music by A. LEE. Oh, after roving many years,

How sweet it is to come
To the dwelling place of early youtlı,

Our first, our dearest home.
To turn away our weary eyes

From proud ambition's towers,
And wander in the summer field

Among the trees and flowers.
But I am changed since last I gazed

On yonder tranquil scene;
And sat beneath the old witch elm

That shades the village green;
And watch'd my boat upon the brook,

As 'twere a royal galley,
And sigh'd not for a joy on earth

Beyond the happy valley.
I wish I could recall again

That bright and blameless joy;
And summon to my weary heart
The feelings of a boy.

Love not, love not! Oh warning vainly said

In present years as in the years gone by; Love Alings a halo round the dear one's head, Faultless, immortal-till they change or die.

Love not, love not!

THE IVY GREEN. CHARLES DICKENS.]

[Music by HENRY RUSSELL. Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,

That creepeth o'er ruins old!
Of right choice food are his meals, 1 ween,

In his cell so lone and cold.
The walls must be crumbled, the stones decay'd

To pleasure his dainty whim;
And the mould'ring dust that years have made
Is a merry meal for him.

Creeping where no life is seen,

A rare old plant is the ivy green.
Fast he stealeth on though he wears no wings,

And a stanch old heart has he;
How closely he twineth, how tight he clings

To his friend the huge oak-tree!
And slily he traileth along the ground,

And his leaves he gently waves,
And he joyously twines and hugs around
The rich mould of dead men's graves.

Creeping where no life is seen,

A rare old plant is the ivy green.
Whole ages have fled, and their works decay'd,

And nations scatter'd been;
But the stout old ivy shall never fade

From its hale and hearty green.
The brave old plant in its lonely days

Shall fatten upon the past;
For the stateliest building man can raise
Is the ivy's food at last.

Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the ivy green.

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