Sleep baby mine, enfolded in this bosom . . . . . . . . . .— The rest of this text is not
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Song Cycle by Francis Boott (1813 - 1904), as Telford
1. The convict's lullaby  [sung text not yet checked]
- by Henry Kirke White (1785 - 1806)
2. It is o'er  [sung text not yet checked]
It is o'er! with its pains and its pleasures, The dream of affection is o'er! The feelings I lavish'd so fondly Will never return to me more. With a faith, O! too blindly believing -- A truth, no unkindness could move; My prodigal heart hath expended At once, an existence of love. And now, like the spendthrift forsaken, By those whom his bounty had blest, All empty, and cold, and despairing, It shrinks in my desolate breast. But a spirit is burning within me, Unquench'd, and unquenchable yet; It shall teach me to bear uncomplaining, The grief I can never forget.
- by Anna Brownell Jameson (1794 - 1860), no title, appears in Diary of an Ennuyée [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
3. Lass of Northmaven  [sung text not yet checked]
Farewell to Northmaven, Grey Hillswicke, farewell! The storms on thy haven, The storms on thy fell, To each breeze that can vary The mood of thy main, And to thee, bonny Mary! We meet not again! Farewell the wild ferry, Which Hacon could brave, When the peaks of the Skerry Where white in the wave. There's a maid may look over These wild waves in vain, For the skiff of her lover, He comes not again! The vows thou hast broke, On the wild currents fling them; On the quicksand and rock Let the mermaidens sing them. New sweetness they'll give her Bewildering strain; But there's one who will never Believe them again. O were there an island, Though ever so wild, Where woman could smile, and No man be beguiled, Too tempting a snare To poor mortals were given; And the hope would fix there, That should anchor in heaven.
- by Walter Scott, Sir (1771 - 1832), "Claud Halcro's song", appears in The Pirate [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
4. Byron's Farewell  [sung text not yet checked]
Farewell! if ever fondest prayer For other's weal availed on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky. 'Twere vain to speak, to weep, to sigh: Oh! more than tears of blood can tell, When wrung from guilt's expiring eye, Are in that word - Farewell! - Farewell! These lips are mute, these eyes are dry; But in my breast and in my brain, Awake the pangs that pass not by, The thought that ne'er shall sleep again. My soul nor deigns nor dares complain, Though grief and passion there rebel: I only know we loved in vain - I only feel - Farewell! - Farewell!
- by George Gordon Noel Byron, Lord Byron (1788 - 1824), "Farewell", appears in The Corsair, first published 1814 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
5. Tirana española  [sung text not yet checked]
— This text is not currently
in the database but will be added
as soon as we obtain it. —
- by Anonymous / Unidentified Author
6. My home and thee  [sung text not yet checked]
I love the landscape, and its heavenly hue, The rolling river, and the swelling sea, The deep green valley, and the mountain blue; But better still my home -- my home -- and thee! I love bold nature's voice, loud ocean's roar, The pouring cataract, and the melody Of winter winds, and sighing woods; but more The voice of love -- my home -- my home and thee! I have an eye that sees, a heart that feels The charm that nature flings o'er lawn and lea; Yet to my breast a ffequent sadness steals To think how far I roam -- from home and thee! And when the glories of the landscape past, Come thick and thronging o'er my memory -- To envious hate, my love is turned at last, For these divide me -- from my home and thee.
- by Samuel Griswold Goodrich (1793 - 1860), "My home and thee", appears in The Outcast: and Other Poems, first published 1836 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]