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and the music ceased awhile. People of 'Tis May! 'tis May! air, earth, and food,
all descriptions, in all directions, hurried With life and beauty are endowed :
to their respective pews, with


Myriads of forms creep, glide, and soar, dating civility to strangers. The curate

Exultant through the genial hour. opened his book and his duties, the clerk 'Tis May! 'tis May! why should not man unsheathed his spectacles, confined his Embrace the universal plan, nostrils, and the service was reverently Enjoy the seasons as they roll, performed, with a suitable discourse and

And love while love inspires the soul. decent melody. After this was ended, "Tis May! 'tis May! the flowers soon fade, the bailiff and his friends returned in like And voiceless grows the sylvan shade: order as they came, perambulating the

The insects fall mid autumn's gloom, precincts of the town. Then the glory of And man is bastening to the tomb. all true Britons, was manifested by the 'Tis May! 'tis May! the flowers revive ! clatter of knives and forks, at the favourite Again the insect revellers live ! depôt for provisions, and genuine hilarity

But man's lost bloom no charms restore, closed the “ringing out of the old bailiff," His youth once pass’d, returns no more. and the ringing in of the new one.


Dulce Bomum.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book. With the preceding communication Sir,-It may not, perhaps, be generally from Mr. Prior, are the following verses. known what it was that gave rise to the

writing of the old breaking-up song of To the Dead Nettle.

“Dulce Domum," so loudly and so cheerUnlike the rose,

fully sung by youngsters previous to the Thou hast not bards to sing

vacation; and as an old custom is involved Thy merits as thy beauty grows in it, you may deem both the song and Neath hedges in the spring.

the custom worthy a place in your EveryUnconscious flower !

Day Book. They are subjoined.
Thy downcast blossom seems
Like 'widowed thought in sorrow's hour

I am, Sir, &c.
Away from pleasure's beams.

Leadenhall Street,


May, 1826.
Young feeling's eye
Surveys thee in thy vernal bed,

About two hundred and thirty years
Protected from the glare of sky,

ago, a scholar of St. Mary's college By lovely nature fed.

Winchester was, for some offence comHe, that would learn

mitted, confined by order of the master, Sermons from thine eternal birth, and it being just previous to the Whita Might safely to the world return suntide vacation, was not permitted And triumph over earth.

to visit his friends, but remained a J. R. PRIOR. prisoner at the college, as report says,

tied to a pillar. During this period he A MAY-DAY.

composed the well known “ Dulce doTo the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

mun,' being the recollections of the Sir,- If you think the following lines pleasures he was wont to join in, at that

season of the year. Grief at the disgrace worth insertion in your Every-Day and the disappointment he endured, so Book, you are welcome to them.

heavily affected him, that he did not live

I am, Sir, &c to witness the return of his companions,
King's Bench Walk, H. M. LANDER. at the end of their holydays.

In commemoration of the above, an-

nually on the evening preceding the 'Tis May! 'tis May! the skylarks sing,

Whitsun holydays, the master, scholars, The swallow tribe is on the wing,

and choristers of the above college, atThe emerald meads look fresh and gay, tended by a band of music, walk in proAnd smiles the golden orb of day.

cession round the court of the college Tis May! 'tis May! the voice of love and the pillar to which it is alleged the Inspiring calls to yonder grove;

unfortunate youth was tied, and chant Then let us to the shades repair,

the verses which he composed in his Where health, and mirth, and music are. affliction.

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DULCE Domum!

Leave, my wearied muse, thy learning,

Leave thy task, so hard to bear ; Concinamus, O sodales !

Leave thy labour, ease returning, Eja! quid silemus ?

Leave this bosom, O! my care. Nobile canticum!

Home, &c. Dulce melos, domum ! Dulce domum, resonemus.

See the year, the meadow, smiling!

Let us then a smile display,

Rural sports, our pain beguiling,

Rural pastimes call away. Domum, domum, dulce domum ;

Ilome, &c. Domum, domum, dulce domum!

Now the swallow seeks ber dwelling, Dulce, dulce, domum !

And no longer rores to roam ; Dulce domum, resonemus!

Her example thus impelling, Appropinquat ecce! felix

Let us seek our native home. Hora gaudiorum,

Home, &c. Post grave tedium Advenit omnium

Let our men and steeds assemble,
Meta petita laborum.

Panting for the wide champaign;
Domum, domum, &c.

Let the ground beneath us tremble,

While we scour along the plain. Musa, libros mitte, fessa,

Home, &c. Mitte pensa dura, Mitte negotium

Oh! what raptures, oh! what blisses,

When we gain the lovely gate !
Jam datur otium,
Me mea mittito cura.

Mother's arms, and mother's kisses,

There, our bless'd arrival wait.
Domum, domum, &c.

Home, &c. Ridet annus, pratą rident;

Greet our household-gods with singing, Nosque rideamus, Jam repetit domum,

Lend, O Lucifer, thy ray;

Why should light, so slowly springing,
Daulius advena :
Nosque domum repetamus,

All our promis d joys delay?
Domum, domum, &c.

Home, &e.
Heus! Rogere, fer caballos ;
Eja, nunc eamus.

Mr. Brandon's account of the “

proLimen amabile

cession round the courts of the college,” Matris et oscula,

and the singing of “Dulce Domum,” is Suaviter et repetamus,

sustained by the rev. Mr. Brand, who Domum, domum, &c. adds, of the song, that “it is no doubt of Concinamus ad Penates,

very remote antiquity, and that its origin Vox et audiatur ;

must be traced, not to any ridiculous traPhosphore! quid jubar,

dition, but to the tenderest feelings of Segnius emicans,

human nature.” He refers for the English Gaudia nostra moratur ?

verses to the “Gentleman's Magazine," Domum, domum, &c. for March, 1796, where they first appearThe above was put into an English tion.” On looking into that volume, it

ed, and calls them "a spirited transladress, a copy of which is below:

seems they were written by one of Mr. Sing a sweet melodious measure,

Urban's correspondents, who signs “J. R." Waft enchanting lays around ;

and dates from “New-street, Hanover. Home! a theme replete with pleasure ! square." Dr. Milner says, that from Home! a grateful theme resound! “amongst many translations of this Win

chester ode," the present “appears best Chorus.

to convey the sense, spirit, and measure, Home, sweet home! an ample treasure ! of the original ; the former versions were Home' with every blessing crown'd!

unworthy of it." He alleges that the Home! perpetual source of pleasure ! existence of the original can only be

Home! a noble strain, resound. traced up to the distance of about a cen. Lo! the joyful hour advances ;

tury; yet its real author, and the occaHappy season of delight!

sion of its composition, are already cloud. Festal songs, and festal dances,

ed with fables.* All our tedious toil requite.

Home, &c.

* Milner's Hist. of Winchester.

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AMERICAN VOCAL MUSIC. affectation they display, cannot fail to By the favour of a correspondent in disgust you : the form of godliness is North America, we are enabled to extract present, but the power thereof is wanting. from the “Colonial Advocate" of Queens The memory of a native Scotsman reton, the following interesting article, by a traces back those halcyon days, when Scotch resident, on the state of melody gladness filled the corn-field—when soin the region he inhabits. It particularly ber mirth and glee crowned the maiden relates to May.

feast—when the song went merrily round

at Yule, to chase away the winter frosts; Scottish Songs.

and coming to the day of universal “ Dear Scotia ! o'er the swelling sea rest from labour, calls to mind the veFrom childhood's hopes, from friends, from nerable precentor with his well-rememthee,

bered solemn tunes, where old and On earth where'er thy offspring roam, This day their hearts should wander home.

young, infancy and advanced age, will. Her sons are brave, her daughters fair,

ingly joined together in singing his Her gowan glens no slave can sbare,

praise--where the fiddle and the flute, Then from the feeling never stray,

the harp and the organ, were uselessThat loves the land that's far away."

where no set people stood up in a corner,

as if to say, Sung by Mr. Maywood, on St. Andrew's this congregation, can offer a sweeter

we, the aristocracy of day, in New York. I have often thought it a pity that there with our melodious voices so much better

and more acceptable sacrifice than

you, is no feature in which Canada, and in-, attuned than yours.” deed America in general, exhibits more dissimilarity to Scotland, than in its

It may, perhaps, appear irreverend in want of vocal music. On the highland me, to say a word of sacred music in an hills, and in the lowland vallies, of Cale- essay intended for Scottish songs; but I

thought the contrast would rot be comdonia, we are delighted with the music of plete without this allusion. A late esthe feathered choristers, who fill heaven in a May morning with their matin songs. Literature,” uses a fine argument in

sayist “On vulgar prejudices against The shepherd whistles “ The Yellow favour of native poetry. Hair'd Laddie'--the shepherdess sings

“Let us ask,” says he, “has Britain. “ In April when primroses deck the sweet plain”—all nature seems in har- the nations of the world, from any one

a greater claim to distinction among mony. But here all is dulness and mo- circumstance, however celebrated it be notony,

in arts and arms, than from its being “ We call on pleasure--and around

the birthplace of Shakspeare ? And if A mocking world repeats the sound !"

the celebration of the anniversary of Even the emigrant seems to have forgot- Waterloo be held in the farthest settleten his native mountains; and in the five ments of India, so is the anniversary of years in which I have sojourned in Ame- the birth of Robert Burns, the pastoral rica, I have not once heard “Roslin poet of Scotland :Castle" sung by a swain on a blithe summer's day. Here they are all dull

“Encamped by Indian rivers wild, plodding farmers, as devoid of sober me

The soldier, resting on his arms,

In Burns's carol sweet recalls lody as the huge forests which surround

The scenes that blest him when a child, them are void of grace and beauty: talk

And glows and gladdens at the charms to them of poetry and music, and they Of Scotia's woods and waterfalls." will sit with sad civility, “as silent as Pygmalion's wife."

When kingdoms, and states, and cities Now and then you may hear a hoarse pass away, what then proves to be the raven of an old woodchopper in the bar- most imperishable of their records, the room of a filthy tavern, roaring in discor- most durable of their glories? Is it dant notes, “Yankee Doodle :" or, in a not the lay of the poet? the eloquence church or meeting-house, you may be- of the patriot? the page of the histohold fifteen or twenty men and women

rian? Is it not the genius of the nation, picked out of the congregation, stuck up imprinted on these, the most splendid in a particular part of the house and sing- of its annals, and transmitted, as a ing ihe praises of redeeming love, with legacy, and a token of its vanished glory, the voices of so many stentors. The to the after ages of mankind ? And

traced upon

now, when the glories of Greece and

Chorus Rome are but shadows, does not our “Meet me on the warlock knowe, blood stir within us at the recital of

Daintie Davie, Daintie Davie, their mighty achievements, and of their

There I'll spend the day with you, majestic thoughts, which, but for the My ain dear Daintie Davie." page of the chronicler would have been About two years ago, I wrote to a corlong ere now a blank and a vacancy; respondent in cotland, to send to Dup glory departed without a trace, or figures das about ten reams of our best Scottish,

the sand, and washed away English, and Irish ballads, and to avoid by the returns of the tide :

any that were exceptionable in point of “Oh! who shall lightly say that fame,

morality. This person has since arrived Is nothing but an empty name?

in America ; but his ideas on the proWhen, but for those, our mighty dead, priety of introducing ballads into a new

All ages past a blank would be, country, I found to be different from Sunk in oblivion's murky bed,

mine-otherwise I had by this time emA desert bare, a shipless sea,

ployed several “wights of Homer's craft" They are the distant objects seen; to disperse the twenty thousand halfThe lofty marks of what hath been, penny songs I then ordered. It would Oh! who shall lightly say that fame have, perhaps, sown the seeds of music Is nothing but an empty name?

in our land, and hundreds of American Where memory of the mighty dead presses, may be, would have spread To earth-worn pilgrims' wistful eye'

abundantly the pleasing stanzas, until acThe brightest rays of cheering shed,

cursed slavery had stopt the strain in the That point to immortality,”

southern regions of republican tyranny.

I can call to mind the time, as well as The blue hills and mountains, among if it were yesterday, when I first heard which Byron first caught the enthusiasm “ The Maid of Lodi:" it was at a Scot. of song; the green vallies and brown tish wedding, at Arthurstone. Sir Ewan, heaths where Scott learnt to tell of the aged sire of the brave colonel Flodden field, and deeds of other days, in Cameron, who fell at Waterloo, was pre. verse, lasting as the source of the deep sent with his lady; and, gentle reader, I Niagara, yet return an echo to the well- think it was the youthful minister of the known “Daintie Davie" of Robert Burns.

next parish who sung, accompanied by As down the burn they took their way,

the bride's youngest sister. It was folAnd through the flowery dale, lowed by “Blythe, blythe,” which I must His cheek to hers he aft did lay,

give the reader from memory. _News is And love was aye the tale.

scarce this week—the king of France is With “ Mary, when shall we return,

dead, and surely the tidings of the next's Sic pleasure to renew ?"

coronation will not arrive in time to fill Quoth Mary, “ Love, I like the burn, a paragraph in the “ Advocate" for a And aye shall follow you."

month to come so let us haveHow I should delight to hear such an Blythe, blythe and merry was she : artless tale sung on the braes of Queens Blythe was she but and ben ; ton, or the green knowes and fertile Blythe by the banks of Ernplains around Ancaster.

Blythe in-Glenturret glen. I once in Montreal heard a gentleman By Aughtertye grows the aik, from little York (a native of Perthshire) By Yarrow banks the birken shaw; sing “Daintie Davie" in fine style; but it

But Phemie was the bonniest lass was the old set, and as it is a very good

The flowers of Yarrow ever såw. song, I think the first stanza and chorus

Blythe, blythe, &c. may “drive dull care away" from half a Her looks were like a flower in May, dozen of my readers as well as a good

Her smile was like a simmer morn ; hit at that silly body, our sapient at

She tripped by the banks of Ern, torney-general, or a squib at his forkhead

As light's a bird upon a thorn. Mr. Solicitor, would have done :

Blythe, blythe, &c.

Her bonnie face it was sae maek “ Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers

As ony lamb upon a lee : To deck her gay green spreading bowers, The evening sun was ne'er so sweet And now comes in my happy hours,

As was the blink o' Phemie's e'e. To wander wi' ny Davie.

Blythe, blythe, &c

The highland hills I've wander'd wide, There's little pleasure in the house,
And o'er the lowlands I hae been ;

When our gudeman 's awa'.
But Phemie was the bonniest lass

11. The sun had gone down o'er tlie That ever trode the dewy green. lofty Ben Lomond. Blythe, blythe, &c.

12. My uncle's dead—I've lands enew.

13. For lack of gold she's left me, 0. A young farmer then gave us “The 14. O' a the airths the wind can blaw. Lothian Lassie;" and as my recollec 15. When boney-dyed bells o'er the tion is pretty good, I shall put Canadian heather was spreading. Scots girls in the way to mind it as well 16. Loudon's bonny woods and braes. as me, by repeating the first stanza : 17. The Highland Laddie. would I could sing it as I have heard it

18. Upon a simmer's afternoon.

Awee afore the sun gaed down. sung:

19. There's cauld kail in Aberdeen, the Last May a braw wooer cam'd down the new way, lang glen,

20. Mirk and rainy was the night. And sair wi' his love he did deave me ;

;. 21. My Pattie is a lover gay. I said there was naething I hated like men,

22. I'm wearin' awa', Jean, The deuce gae wi' 'm to believe me,

Like spa' when its thaw, Jean. believe me,

23. Its Logie o' Buchan, o' Logie the The deuce gae wi' 'm to believe me."


24. With the garb of old Gaul, and the What a chaste pleasure what a glad- fire of old Rome. dening influence over the most stoical 25. Come under my plaide. mind, any of the following songs yield,

26. O' Bessie Bell and Mary Gray. when well sung to their own tunes, by a

27. Ye banks and braes of bonny Doon, half dozen young ladies in the parlour,

28. The laird of the drum, a wooing has or by a chorus of bonnie lassies in the gone,

And awa' in the morning early: kitchen, as the former pursue their sew

And he has spied a weel fa'red May, ing and knitting, and the latter birr. their

A shearing her father's barley. wheels, and stir the sowens in an even

29. My bonny Lizzie Baillie. ing, the opulent farmer's dwelling; or 30. Green grow the rushes, O! when heard in the most humble cottage of a Scottish peasant. Well might the

I must have done I have named farmer's dog, Luath, say, “And I for e'en down joy bae barkit wi' them.”

so many songs to put my readers in Let these classes come to Upper Ca- mind of nada to-morrow, and they will tire of its

“ Auld lang syne ;" dulness. Nature's face is fair enough; but after the traveller leaves the last and I could add as many more, of faint sounds of the Canadian boatsman's truly Scottish origin, that I should like song, as it dies on the still waters of the

to see in Canada, as would fill up St. Lawrence, music will be done with.

the “ Advocate;" but I must stop—the I had forgotten however, I must now

politicians would omplain. I have quote the songs alluded to; and I well heard a few of these well sung in Cacan from memory :

nada—the last, a lintie in Queenston

braes sings now and then. Would there 1. Gloomy winter's now awa'.

were ten thousand such in Upper 2. Roy's wife of Aldivalloch.

Canada ! 3. Beneath the pretty hawthorn that

The English version of the following blooms in the vale. 4. And she showed him the way for to line, is not near so pretty as the Scots

original, which goes thus :5. I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen.

6. John Anderson, my Joe, John, when I once was a bachelor, both early and we were first acquent.

young, 7. Thy cheek is o' the rose's hue,

And I courted a fair maid with a flattering My only joe and dearie, 0.

tongue : 8. Coming o'er the craigs o' Kyle. I courted her, I wooed her, I honoured

9. O, lassie, art thou sleeping yet;-and her then, the answer.

And I promised to marry her, but never 10. There's nae luck about the house,

told her when. There's nac luck ava';

0, I never told her when," &c.

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