Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1886-04-10
OLD ENGLISH SONGS.


aud authorship OF songs which were popular
hfty or hundred years ago, and which
have como down to us In fragmentary sort
Of way, or have been forgotten altogether.
The pathetic ballads that drew tears from
our grandmother, alike with the hearty
songs and roaring choruses OF our grand
fathers, had peculiar charm and performed
their mission, and they were, ~ rule, of a
higher literary standard than those which
enjoy popular favor to-day. 1t is hopeful
sign to see a desire on the part of musical
people to resuscitate the best OF these old
songs with their accompanying airs, and
points to possible time when good words
shall again be welded to good music. One
song which has been frequently called for
by correspondents Is
THE MINUTE ouN AT sEA.
Let him who sighs in sadness here
Rejoice and know friend IL near.
What thrilling sounds are those hear
What being comes to gloom TO cheer
when in this storm on Albion's coast
The night watch guards his weary post,
From thoughts OF danger free.
He marks some vessels dusky form
And hears, amid the bowling storm,
The minute gun at sea.
swift on the shore hardy few
The lifeboat man wi III a gallant crew
And dare the dangerous wave
Through the wild SURF they cleaye their way.
Lost In the foam. nor know disinay,
For they go the crew to save.
Bnt oh what rapture nils the breast
q the hopeless crew OF the ship distressed
ofaii the dangers that befelii
by the watch on the shore
The minute gun at sea,
This popular duet was written about the
beginning of the present century by X. ).
Sharpe, an English gentleman, and was set to
music by another Englshman, M. p. King,
who was for some years an organist in New
York, aud died In that city halfa century
ago. "Mary's Dream" was another favorite,
and was set to music perfect as the words.
II was written by young Scotch poet John
Lowe, who was born In 1850. He was tutor
in the family of a wealthy gentleman, whose
daughters affiauced lover was drowned at
sea. The poem was written when the news
OF the sad event was received. Lowe mar
ried unhappily, came to America, and died
in Virginia in l76S.
NABY's DREAM
The moon has climbed the highest hill
Which rises DER the source of Dee,
And from the eastern summit shed
Her silver light on tower and tree
When Mary laid her down to sleep.
Her though on Sandy far at sea,
When, soft and low, voice was heard
Saying, Mary. weep no more for me ~
She from her pillow gently raised
Her head. to ask who there might be.
And saw Young sandy shiyering stand
30 Mary, dear, cold is my clay;
1t lies beneath a stormy sea.
Far, far from thee sleep in death
SO, Mary, weep no more for me
"Three stormy nights and stormy days
We tossed upon the raging main;
And long we strove our bark to save,
Even then, when horror chilled my blood,
My heart was filled with love for thee;
The storm Is past, and at rest;
so, Mary, weep no more for me
40, maiden, dear. thyself prepare
We soon shall meet upon that shore
Where love Is free from doubt and care,
And thou and I'd shall part no more :,
Ioud crowed the cock, the shadow fed,
No more of Sandy could she see
But soft the passing spirit said
"Sweet Mary, weep no more for me :"
Sir Walter Scott used to say that he could
never hear this sung without crying, and
yet as child he continually besought his
nurse 10 sing it More artificial in tone and
sentiment, but yet full of plaintive sweet
ness, was
On the banks OF Allen Water,
When the sweet spring time did fall,
Was the millers lovely daughter,
Fairest of them ALL
For hts bride soldier sought her,
And a winning tongue had he.
On the banks of Allen Water
None so gay as she.
On the banks OF Allen Water,
When brown autumn spreads Its store,
There saw the millers daughter,
But she smiled no more.
For the summer grief had brought her,
And the soldier, false was he,
On the banks OF Allen Water
None so sad as she.
On the bank of Allen Water,
when the winter snow fell fast,
still was seen the miller's daughter
Chilling blew the blast.
But the miller's lovely daughter
on the banks of Allen Water
There corse lay she !
This pathetic little song was written by
Matthew Gregory Lewis, familiarly known
in his day as "Monk" Lewis, from his novel
of that name. 1t was favorite in English
musical circles three-quarters OF century
ago. The air was composed by Charles Ed
ward Horn, of London.
Another song, which was quite favorite
in its day, was "Begone, DUH Care" the
authorship of which, together with the name
of the composer, has been lost:
BECOME, DULL oARE.
Begone, dull care
prithee begone from me.
Bsgone, dull care (!
Thou and can never agree,
Long while thou hast been tarrying here
And fain thou would'st me kill
hut 4 faith, dun care,
Thou never shalt have thy Will.
Too much care
win make u young man look gray
viii turn an old man to clay;
My wife shall dance and viii sing
And we'll merrily pass the day.
For hold 1t Is the wisest thing
To drive dull care away.
Hence, dull care!
III none of thy company
Hence, dull care,
Wen hunt the Wild boar through the wold,
And then AT night Ser cheerful bowl
We drive dull care away
A business View OF II.