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SHAKESPEARE'S GARLAND.
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SHAKESPEARE'S GARLAND.
BEING A COLLECTION OF NEW SONGS, BALLADS, ROUNDELAYS, CATCHES, GLEES, COMIC-SERENATAS, &c.
PERFORMED AT THE JUBILEE AT SRATFORD UPON AVON.
THE MUSICK BY DR. ARNE, MR. BARTHELIMON, MR. AILWOOD, AND MR. DIBDIN.
LONDON: PRINTED FOR T. BECKET, AND P. A. DE HONDT, IN THE STRAND. MDCCLXIX.
[1]SHAKESPEARE'S GARLAND.
THE MORNING ADDRESS.
To the Ladies.
LET beauty with the ſun ariſe;
To SHAKESPEARE tribute pay,
With heavenly ſmiles and ſpeaking eyes;
Give grace and luſtre to the day.
Each ſmile ſhe gives protects his name;
What face ſhall dare to frown?
Not Envy's ſelf can blaſt the fame,
Which Beauty deigns to crown.
WARWICKSHIRE.
A SONG.
[2]I.
YE Warwickſhire lads, and ye laſſes,
See what at our Jubilee paſſes,
Come revel away, rejoice and be glad,
For the lad of all lads, was a Warwickſhire lad,
Warwickſhire lad,
All be glad,
For the lad of all lads, was a Warwickſhire lad.
II.
Be proud of the charms of your county,
Where Nature has laviſh'd her bounty,
Where much ſhe has giv'n, and ſome to be ſpar'd,
For the bard of all bards, was a Warwickſhire bard,
Warwickſhire bard,
Never pair'd,
For the bard of all bards, was a Warwickſhire bard.
[3]III.
Each ſhire has its different pleaſures,
Each ſhire has its different treaſures;
But to rare Warwickſhire, all muſt ſubmit,
For the wit of all wits, was a Warwickſhire wit,
Warwickſhire wit,
How he writ!
For the wit of all wits, was a Warwickſhire wit.]
IV.
Old Ben, Thomas Otway, John Dryden,
And half a ſcore more we take pride in,
Of famous Will Congreve, we boaſt too the ſkill,
But the Will of all Wills, was Warwickſhire Will,
Warwickſhire Will,
Matchleſs ſtill,
For the Will of all Wills, was a Warwickſhire Will.
V.
Our SHAKESPEARE compar'd is to no man,
Nor Frenchman, nor Grecian, nor Roman,
Their ſwans are all geeſe, to the Avon's ſweet ſwan,
And the man of all men, was a Warwickſhire man,
Warwickſhire man,
Avon's ſwan,
And the man of all men, was a Warwickſhire man.
[4]VI.
As ven'ſon is very inviting,
To ſteal it out bard took delight in,
To make his friends merry he never was lag,
And the wag of all wags, was a Warwickſhire wag,
Warwickſhire wag,
Ever brag,
For the wag of all wags, was a Warwickſhire wag.
VII.
There never was ſeen ſuch a creature,
Of all ſhe was worth, he robb'd Nature;
He took all her ſmiles, and he took all her grief,
And the thief of all thieves, was a Warwickſhire thief,
Warwickſhire thief,
He's the chief;
For the thief of all thieves, was a Warwickſhire thief.
SWEET * WILLY O.
A SONG.
[5]I.
THE pride of all nature was ſweet Willy O,
The firſt of all ſwains,
He gladden'd the plains,
None ever was like to ſweet Willy O.
II.
He ſung it ſo rarely did ſweet Willy O,
He melted each maid,
So ſkillful he play'd,
No ſhepherd e'er pip'd like the ſweet Willy O.
III.
All Nature obey'd him, this ſweet Willy O,
Wherever he came,
Whate'er had a name,
Whenever he ſung follow'd ſweet Willy O,
[6]IV.
He won'd be a * ſoldier, this ſweet Willy O,
When arm'd in the field,
With ſword and with ſhield,
The laurel was won by the ſweet Willy O.
V.
He charm'd 'em when living, the ſweet Willy O,
And when Willy dy'd,
'Twas Nature that ſigh'd,
To part with her all in her ſweet Willy O.
SHAKESPEARE'S MULBERRY-TREE.
Sung with a Cup in his Hand made of the Tree.
[7]I.
BEHOLD this fair goblet, 'twas carv'd from the tree,
Which, O my ſweet SHAKESPEARE, was planted by thee;
As a relick I kiſs it, and bow at the ſhrine,
What comes from thy hand muſt be ever divine!
All ſhall yield to the Mulberry-tree,
Bend to thee,
Bleſt Mulberry,
Matchleſs was he
Who planted thee,
And thou like him immortal be!
II.
Ye trees of the foreſt, ſo rampant and high,
Who ſpread round their branches, whoſe heads ſweep the ſky,
Ye curious exotics, whom taſte has brought here,
To root out the natives, at prices ſo dear,
All ſhall yield to the Mulbery-tree, &c, &c.
[8]III.
The Oak is held royal, is Britain's great boaſt,
Preſerv'd once our king, and will always our coaſt;
But of Fir we make ſhips; we have thouſands that fight,
While One, only One, like our SHAKESPEARE can write,
All ſhall yield to the Mulberry-tree, &c, &c.
IV.
Let Venus delight in her gay mirtle bowers,
Pomona in fruit trees, and Flora in flowers,
The garden of SHAKESPEARE all fancies will ſuit;
With the ſweeteſt of flowers, and faireſt of fruit,
All ſhall yield to the Mulberry-tree, &c, &c.
V.
With learning and knowledge the well-letter'd Birch;
Supplies Law and Phyſick, and Grace for the church;
But Law and the Goſpel in SHAKESPEARE we find,
And he gives the beſt Phyſick for body and mind.
All ſhall yield to the Mulberry-tree, &c, &c.
[9]VI.
The fame of the patron gives fame to the tree,
From him and his merits this takes its degree;
Let Phoebus and Bacchus their glories reſign,
Our tree ſhall ſurpaſs both the Laurel and Vine.
All ſhall yield to the Mulberry-tree, &c, &c.
VII.
The Genius of SHAKESPEARE out-ſhines the bright day,
More rapture than wine to the heart can convey,
So the tree which he planted, by making his own,
Has Laurel, and Bays, and the Vine all in one.
All ſhall yield to the Mulberry-tree, &c, &c.
VIII.
Then each take a relick of this hallow'd tree,
From folly and faſhion a charm let it be;
Fill fill to the planter, the cup to the brim,
To honour the country, do honour to him.
All ſhall yield to the Mulberry-tree,
Bend to thee,
Bleſt Mulberry,
Matchleſs was he
Who planted thee,
And thou like him immortal be!
ROUNDELAY.3
For the Jubilee, in Honour of SHAKESPEARE.
[10]I.
SISTERS of the tuneful ſtrain!
Attend your parent's jocund train,
'Tis Fancy calls you, follow me,
To celebrate the Jubilee.
II.
On Avon's banks, where SHAKESPEARE's buſt
Points out, and guards his ſleeping duſt,
The ſons of Scenic Mirth decree
To celebrate this Jubilee.
III.
* By Garrick led, the grateful band,
Haſte to their Poet's native land,
With rites of ſportive revelry,
To celebrate his Jubilee.
[11]IV.
* Come daughters then, and with you bring
The vocal reed, and ſprightly ſtring,
Wit, and Joke, and Repartee,
To celebrate our Jubilee.
V.
Come, daughters, come, and bring with you
Th' Aerial Sprite and Fairy Crew,
And the Siſter-Graces three,
To celebrate our Jubilee.
VI.
Hang around the ſculptur'd tomb
The broider'd veſt, the nodding plume,
And the maſk of comic glee,
To celebrate our Jubilee.
VII.
From Birnam Wood, and Boſworth's Field,
Bring the ſtandard, bring the ſhield,
With drums, and martial ſymphony,
To celebrate our Jubilee.
[12]VIII.
In mournful numbers now relate
Poor Deſdemona's hapleſs fate,
With frantic deeds of Jealouſy,
To celebrate our Jubilee.
IX.
Nor be Windſor's wives forgot,
With their harmleſs, merry plot,
The whit'ning mead, and haunted tree,
To celebrate our Jubilee.
X.
Now in jocund ſtrains recite,
The revels of the braggar'd Knight,
Fat Knight! and antient Piſtol he!
To celebrate our Jubilee.
XI.
But ſee, in crowds, the gay, the fair,
To the ſplendid ſcene repair,
A ſcene as fine, as fine can be,
To celebrate our Jubilee.
[13]XII.
Yet Colin bring, and Roſalind,
Each ſhepherd true, and damſel kind,
For well with ours, their ſports agree,
To crown the feſtive Jubilee.
CHORUS FROM THE CHURCH.
[14]THIS is the day, a holiday! a holiday!
Drive ſpleen and rançour far away,
This is the day, a holiday! a holiday!
Drive care and ſorrow far away.
* Here Nature nurs'd her darling boy,
From whom all care, and ſorrow fly,
Whoſe harp the muſes ſtrung:
From heart to heart let joy rebound,
Now, now, we tread enchanted ground,
Here SHAKESPEARE walk'd, and ſung!
TO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY OF SHAKESPEARE
[15]IMMORTAL be his name,
His memory, his fame!
Nature and her works we ſee,
Matchleſs SHAKESPEARE full in thee!
Join'd by everlaſting tyes,
SHAKESPEARE but with Nature dies.
Immortal be his Name,
His memory, his fame!
THE DRAMATIC RACE.
A CATCH.
[16]CLEAR, clear the courſe—make room—make room I ſay!
Now they are off, and Jonſon makes the play.
I'll bet the odds—done ſir, with you and you;
SHAKESPEARE keeps near him—and he'll win it too:
Here's even money—done for a hundred, done—
Now Jonſon! now, or never—he has won.
I'll take my oath, that SHAKESPEARE won the prize—
Damme! whoever ſays he loſt it, lies.
CHORUS FOR THE PAGEANT AT STRATFORD.
[17]HENCE ye prophane! and only they,
Our pageant grace our pomp ſurvey,
Whom love of ſacred genius brings;
Let pride, let flattery decree,
Honors to deck the memory,
Of warriors, ſenators, and kings—
Not leſs in glory, and deſert,
The poet here receives his part,
A tribute from the feeling heart.
A CATCH.
[18]NYM, Piſtol and Bardolph, with merry old Jack,
One morning made ſport for their pupil, prince Harry;
When Falſtaff cry'd out for a bumper of ſack,
To Quickly, his hoſteſs, and bid her not tarry;
Ah! hah! cry'd the prince, honeſt boy is it ſo!
The wheels of your wit, muſt be oil'd as they go.
CATCH IN AS YOU LIKE IT.
[19]WHAT ſhall he have that kill'd the deer?
His leather ſkin and horns to wear.
Take thou no ſcorn
To wear the horn, the horn, the horn:
It was a creſt ere thou waſt born.
Thy father's father wore it;
And thy father bore it,
The horn, the horn, the luſty horn,
Is not a thing to laugh to ſcorn.
A GLEE.
[20]COME, nymphs and fawns, where'er ye be,
To this your Father's Jubilee,
With a tivy, tivy, tivy-tivie, ti.
Come elves, and fairies, in a row,
And if you ever ſung, ſing now,
With a row-dow, row tidow, dow.
Ev'n Caliban, tho' void of art,
With growling baſe, ſhall bear a part,
With a Ban, Ban, Cacaliban.
QUEEN MAB.
A CANTATA.
[21]RECITATIVE.
NOT long ago, 'tis ſaid, a proclamation,
Was ſent abroad through all the Fairy nation;
Mab to her loving ſubjects—A decree,
At SHAKESPEARE's tomb to hold a Jubilee.
ACCOMPANIED.
The night was come, and now on Avon's ſide
The pigmy race was ſeen,
Attended by their queen,
On chafers ſome, and ſome on crickets ride.
The queen appear'd from far,
Mounted in a nut ſhell carr;
Six painted lady-birds the carriage drew;
And now the cavalcade,
In order due array'd,
March'd firſt,
Where erſt,
The ſacred Mulb'ry grew,
And there their homage paid:
[22]Next they ſought the holy ground,
And while
A thouſand glow-worm torches glimmer'd round;
Thus Good Fellow, the herald of his fame,
Did from the alabaſter height proclaim,
The poets titles and his ſtile.
AIR.
SHAKESPEARE, heaven's moſt favor'd creature,
Trueſt copier of Nature,
Firſt of the Parnaſſian train;
Chiefeſt fav'rite of the muſes,
Which ſoe'er the poet chooſes,
Bleſt alike in ev'ry ſtrain.
Life's great cenſor, and inſpector,
Fancy's treaſurer, Wit's director,
Artleſs to the ſhame of art;
Maſter of the various paſſions,
Leader of all inclinations,
Sov'reign of the human heart.
RECITATIVE.
Then did the queen an acorn take,
Fill'd with morn and ev'ning dew,
Bruſh'd from ev'ry fragrant brake,
That round the lawns of Stratford grew.
[23]ACCOMPANIED.
And thus ſaid ſhe, libation do I make,
To our friend and father's ſhade:
'Twas SHAKESPEARE that the Fairies made;
And men ſhall give us honour for his ſake.
AIR.
O happy bard, whoſe potent ſkill,
Can give exiſtence where it will.
Let giant wiſdom ſtrive to chaſe,
From man's belief the Fairy race;
Religion ſtern our pow'r reject,
Philoſophy our tales neglect,
Only truſting what 'tis ſeeing;
Combat us howe'er they liſt,
In thy ſcenes we ſhall exiſt,
Sure as if Nature gave us being.
THE COUNTRY GIRL.
A COMIC SERENATA.
[24]RECITATIVO.
PRITHEE tell me, couſin Sue,
Why they make ſo much to do,
Why all this noiſe and clatter?
Why all this hurry, all this buſtle,
Law how they crowd, and bawl and juſtle,
I caunno' gueſs the matter:
For whom muſt all this puther be?
The Emperor of Garmanee,
Or Great Mogul is coming,
Such eating, drinking, dancing, ſinging,
Such Cannon firing, bells a ringing,
Such trumpetting and drumming!
AIR.
All this for a Poet—O no—
Who liv'd lord knows how long ago?
How can you jeer one,
How can you fleer one,
A poet, a poet, O no,
'Tis not ſo,
Who liv'd lord knows how long ago:
[25]It muſt be ſome great man,
A prince, or a ſtate-man,
It can't be a poet—O no:
Your poet is poor,
And nobody ſure,
Regards a poor poet I trow:
The rich ones we prize,
Send 'em up to the ſkies,
But not a poor poet—O no—
Who liv'd lord knows how long ago.
RECITATIVO.
Yet now I call to mind,
Our larned doctor boaſted,
One SHIKSPUR did of all mankind,
Receive from heav'n the moſt-head—
That he could wonders do,
And did 'em o'er and o'er,
Raiſe ſprites, and lay 'em too,
The like ne'er ſeen before.
A conjurer was he!
Who with a pen in hond,
Had earth, and air, and ſea,
And all things at commaund.
[26]AIR.
1.
O'er each heart he was ruler,
Made 'em warmer or cooler,
Could make 'em to laugh or to cry:
What we lock'd in our breaſts,
Tho' as cloſe as in Cheſts,
Was not hid from the conjuror's eye:
Tho' ſins I have none,
I am glad he is gone,
No maid could live near ſuch a mon.
II.
If he ſew ye be knew ye,
Would look thro' and thro' ye,
Thro' ſkin, and your fleſh and your cloaths,
Had you vanity, pride,
Fifty follies beſide,
He would ſee 'em, as plain as your noſe:
Tho' ſins I have none,
I am glad he is gone,
No maid would live near ſuch a mon.
[27]III.
Let us ſing it, and dance it,
Rejoice it, and prance it,
That no man has now ſuch an art;
What would come of us all,
Both the great ones, and ſmall,
Should he live to peep now in each heart
Tho' ſins I have none,
I am glad he is gone,
No maid could live near ſuch a mon.
FINIS.
Notes
*
SHAKESPEARE.
*
Writer of Tragedy.
3
N. B. The Stanzas marked with a * are omitted in the ſinging.
*
To be ſung at the houſe where SHAKESPEARE was born.
- Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 4176 Shakespeare s garland Being a collection of new songs ballads roundelays catches glees comic serenatas c Performed at the jubille sic at Sratford sic upon Avon The musick by Dr Arne Mr. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-58AB-1