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Mrs. POWNALL's ADDRESS, IN BEHALF OF THE FRENCH MUSICIANS, Delivered on her Benefit CONCERT Night, AT Oeller's Hotel, Chesnut-street, Philadelphia.
To which are added, PASTORAL SONGS, Written by HERSELF at an early period of life.
Also the Songs performed at the Concerts.—New Theatre.
PHILADELPHIA. Printed and Sold at STORY's Office, (No. 36) Fourth-street nearly opposite the Indian Queen tavern.
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To the READER.
THE CONCERTS in which Mrs. POWNALL has taken a part during the late Winter, having established her in the First Rank, as a Vocal Performer, must have excited in the Public Mind, a desire to peruse the productions of her Pen, some of which she has at different times selected for their Entertainment; and however inferior these may appear, when divested of the Ornaments derived from her Melody, the editor flatters himself, that the Public, who have already given a decided and unqualified Preference to her Execution, will find no reason to be dissatisfied with the Judgment displayed in her Choice of the following, from among a variety of SONGS of her own Composition, when at an early period of Life.—Few circumstances could have occur'd more advantageous to our character for justness of Taste, than the earnest approbation bestowed on this Lady at a time, when it was not generally known, that she had during a [Page 4] series of years, been the Favorite Singer at Vauxhall. For although her Benevolence of Conduct, respecting the French Performers, may in the eyes of Philadelphians have given additional Grace to her exertions at their Concerts, yet the applauses bestowed on her Performance, by a very crouded and respectable audience, when for her own Benefit, shew a just appreciation of Merit, even when unaided by Circumstances, adapted to silence the voice of Criticism and excite the Feelings of Philanthrophy.
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Mrs. POWNALL's ADDRESS.
LADIES and GENTLEMEN,
'TWAS said of QUEEN MARY, when she died, and was Anatomiz'd, the Word Calais was found engraved on her Heart.—I will not vouch for the truth of that assertion; but I should do injustice to my present Feelings, was I not to declare, the exertions made for this evening in my Favor, stamp such an indelible impression, that, Die when I may, the Names of GRATITUDE and PHILADELPHIA will be found on Mine.
THUS far myself.—But now ye
Blooming Fair,
Another cause demands my utmost care;
The cause of exil'd merit let me plead,
'Tis Charity, and
[...] must sure succeed
[Page 2]Ladies, to your kind hearts I'll first appeal;
You're not expos'd to
"feel what wretches feel."
Though modest shame forbids them tell their tale,
Though o'er their poverty she draws the veil;
Yet did I paint the sorrows of
those few,
With pity's tear t'wou'd many a cheek bedew.—
But hold, methinks I hear some standers by
Say, they came here to laugh and not to cry.
'Tis true; the strong rebuke is well apply'd,
I feel its force, and give them leave to chide.
If Ladies you'll forgive this faint endeavor
To introduce the BAND HERE, to your favor.
Assure yourselves I wou'd not give offence,
When Beauty smiles, all feel its influence.
What say you Sirs;—but put it to the vote,
You can't see
Genius in a thread-bare coat.
Shall it be said,
Collumbia's Sons forgot
That
Frenchmen in their cause once bravely fought?
[Page 3]Forbid it Fame, forbid it Liberty,
Honor, Religion, every sacred tie;
Say you'll relieve them, else this little Troop,
Dear as they lov't, must give up Beef and Soup.
I freely own it puzzles me to tell,
How they can here acquit Themselves so well.
You may beleive me, for as I'm a Sinner,
I cou'd not Sing, if I had eat no Dinner.
And these, however gay they try t'appear,
Certainly feel a monstrous craving
Here.
But jokes apart, I fear some here may be,
That think, to write is arrogance in me.
And more, that I for Foreigners shou'd plead.
Let such remember, t'as been long agreed,
Who pleases all must have a task indeed.
While others, who well know that good was mean't,
Though they condemn the lines, applaud the intent.
[Page 4]If not, I've only to lament my fate,
And wish I was an abler Advocate,
But if my ardent pray'rs are hear'd in Heav'n,
You'll all meet here on Saturday at Seven.
[Page]
Pastoral Songs,
COMPOSED AT AN EARLY PERIOD OF THE AUTHOR'S LIFE.
By MARY A. POWNALL.
PHILADELPHIA. M.DCC.XIII.
[Page]
SONG I. DESPONDING LOVE.
BY walks, where the moon beam besilvers the stream,
Which reflected the gloom of the grove,
I'll sing to the waters, and this be my Theme,
Desponding Love.
II.
My plaints and soft murmurs while flowing along,
Shall resound thro' the leaves as they move,
And thus shall the Nightingale warble my song,
Desponding Love.
III.
Each sigh thus re-echo'd more soft will appear,
More adapted sweet pity to move,
The cause of my sorrows will waft to each ear
Desponding Love
[Page 8]
SONG II. JEMMY OF THE DEE.
ONE morn as JEMMY of the
Dee,
Was passing yonder Vale,
The Swain (who blithsome us'd to be)
Sang mournfully his tale.
Ah! SUSY, had'st thou faithful been,
How blest were then my lot,
How pleasing then each rural scene,
My Pipe, my Crook, my Cot.
But you alas! inconstant prove,
And rend that Heart from me,
You vow'd shou'd know no other Love,
But
Jemmy of the Dee.
II.
My Ewes and Lambs forsaken stray;
The Ev'ning Dance forgot,
Neglected every Rustic Play.
Since first you fled my Cot.
[Page 9]For what avails my Fleecy Care,
Why dance I on the green,
Why revel it at Wake or Fair,
Unless by SUSAN seen.
For Thee I wrest'led at the Wake,
I shear'd my Flocks for Thee;
Ungrateful, how could'st thou forsake
Thy
Jemmy of the Dee.
III.
With heart oppress'd, his plaintive tale
Thus sung the Love-lorn Youth;
His SUSY foll'wing down the Dale,
Convinc'd of JEMMY's truth.
Her absence, all a stroke of art,
By Grannum taught, to prove
If true, or false, her Shepherd's heart;
The men are apt to rove.
She call'd, he heard her well known voice,
Then seiz'd her hand with glee;
She blush'd and sighing, own'd her choice
Was
Jemmy of the Dee.
[Page 10]
SONG III. THE SORROWS OF MARY.
"YE winds, to whom COLLIN complains,
"In ditty's so sad, and so sweet,
"Beleive me the Shepherd but feigns
"He is wretched, to shew he has wit.
No death the Deceiver designs,
Let me who am slighted despair,
Alas! he but dies in his lines,
And gives himself that modish air.
II.
My Wit of no poignance can boast,
Nor my Person of ought that is fine,
But COLLIN may find to his cost,
A face that is fairer than mine.
Then, then may he mourn a sad fate,
And struggle in vain to be free;
He'll wish when perhaps 'tis too late,
He'd plac'd his affections on me.
[Page 11]
III.
The bark of the
green Willow Tree,
Shall part af my story record,
And tell, tho forsaken I be,
Poor MARY still lov'd and ador'd.
Soon, then, I'll undeck my lov'd Crook,
Return all the Flow'rets he gave,
Then try in yon much favor'd Brook.
To find for my
Sorrows a
Grave.
[Page 12]
SONG IV. FORBIDDEN LOVE.
WHAT means this new felt agitation,
When I my Charmer's name repeat;
Those fond alarms, this perterbation,
This quick'n'd pace my pulses beat,
Shall I who've laugh'd at Cupid's chains,
Now feel their power thro' all my veins,
And be myself a
Lover.
II.
My Friends complain my temper's fretful;
I try to stop the gushing tear,
Tho' lost in thought, I'm still forgetful
Of those I ought to hold most dear.
They ask me why so sad I'm grown,
I blush and sigh, but da
[...] not own,
I feel myself a
Lover.
[Page 13]
III.
O thou to whom no secret's hiden,
My supplication pray receive,
Nor doom'd to doat on things forbidden,
The Daughter of ill-fated Eve.
Convert to cool esteem my flame,
So shall I glory in thy name,
And cease to be a
Lover.
IV.
May she whose beauty first inspir'd him,
Whose virtues made his heart her own,
May she retain those charms that fir'd him,
When age appears and beauty's flown,
And shou'd their blooming offspring bear,
The semblance of this charming pair,
Of these, I'll prove a
Lover.
[Page 14]
SONG V. The MUSIC, and WORDS, composed by Mrs. Pownall,
WHERE gently flows sweet winding Tay,
The valleys glad'ning with its stream,
O'er every copse and every brae,
I moan, and JEMMY is my theme.
He left my Cot last Whitsun eve,
And vow'd he'd soon be back again,
But ah! poor MARY he'll deceive,
I ne'er shall see the Lad again.
Bonny Jemmy, &c.
II.
The Lasses all when I complain,
With scornful taunt, my mis'ries shun,
But Oh! had they beheld my Swain,
Too sure, like me they'd been undone,
Then do no blame an artless Maid,
But pray ye ne'er my Jemmy kin;
Or hear those vows my heart betray'd,
To sigh for Jemmy of the Glen.
Bonny Jemmy.
[Page 15]
III.
If Fame he seek mid'st hostile strife,
Or gayly gang fair Glasgow's pride,
Some fatal ball may end his life,
Or City Dame become his Bride.
Or if on Tay's green banks he tread,
Some Lordling's Child his heart may win,
And far from me my Shepherd wed,
I ne'er shall see my Lad again.
Bonny Jemmy, &c.
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☞ SONG the Vth. Sung at the French Musician's Benefit CONCERT at Oellers Hotel; Who where honored with the company of the President and a great number of the first Characters in our City.
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NEW SONGS, SUNG AT THE CONCERT'S.—NEW THEATRE, PHILADELPHIA.
SONG I. POOR TOM BOWLING.—Or the Sailor's Epitaph. Sung by Mr. Harper, at the CONCERT.—New Theatre.
HERE a sheer hulk, lies poor TOM BOWLING.
The Darling of our crew;
No more he'll hear the tempest howling,
For Death has broach'd him too.
His form was of the manliest beauty,
His heart was kind and soft,
Faithful below he did his duty,
And now he's gone aloft.
And now, &c.
Tom never from his Word departed,
His Virtues were so rare,
His Friends were many and true hearted,
His Poll was kind and fair:
And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly,
Ah many's the time and oft!
But Mirth is turn'd to Melancholy,
For Tom is gone aloft.
[Page 18]
Yet shall Poor Tom find pleasant weather
When he who all commands
Shall give, to call life's Crew together,
The word to pipe all hands.
Thus Death, who Kings and tars dispatches,
In vain Tom's life has doffed;
For, though his body's under hatches,
His soul is gone aloft.
BACHELOR's HALL. Sung by Mr. CHAMBER's at the Concert.—New Theatre.
TO Bachelor's Hall we good Fellows invite,
To partake of the chase that makes up our delight,
We have spirits like fire, and of health such a stock,
That our pulse strikes the seconds as true as a clock;
Did you see us you'd swear as we mount with a grace,
That Diana had dubb'd some new gods of the chase.
Hark a-way, hark a-way, all nature looks gay,
And Aurora with smiles ushers in the bright day.
Dick Thickset came mounted upon a fine black,
A better fleet gelding ne'er hunter did back,
Tom Trig rode a Bay, full of metal and bone,
And gayly Bob Buxom wrode proud on a roan;
But the horse of all horses that rivall'd the day,
Was the Squire's Neck-or-nothing, and that was a grey
Hark away, hark away, while our spirits are gay,
Let us drink to the joys of the next coming day.
[Page 19]
Then for hounds there was nimble so well that climbs rocks
And cocknose a good one at scenting a fox,
Little Plunge like a mole who will ferret and search,
And beetle-browed Hawk
[...]-eye, so dead at a lurch;
Young sly looks that scents the strong breeze from the south
And musical Echowell with his deep mouth.
Hark-away, &c.
Our horses thus all of the very best blood,
'Tis not likely you'll easily find such a stud;
And for hounds our opinions with thousands we'll back,
That all England throughout can't produce such a pack:
Thus having described you dogs, horses and crew,
Away we set off, for the Fox is in view.
Hark away, &c.
Sly Reynard's brought home, while the horns sound a call.
And now you're all wellcome to Bachelor's hall;
The savory fir-loin grateful smoaks on the board,
And Bacchus pours wine from his favourite h
[...]ard;
Come on then do honor to this joval place,
And enjoy the sweet pleasures that spring from the chase
Hark away, &c.
SONG III. Saturday Night at SEA.—Sung by Mr. HARPER.
'TWAS Saturday Night the twinkling stars
Shone on the ripling sea,
No duty call'd the joval tars;
The helm was lash'd a l
[...].
[Page 20]
The ample can adorn'd the board,
Prepar'd to see it out,
Each gave the lass that he ador'd
And push'd the grog about.
Cried honest TOM my Peg I'll toast,
A frigate neat and trim,
All jolly Portsmouths favorite boast
I'd venture life and limb.
Sail seven long years and ne'er see land,
With dauntless heart and stout,
So tight a vessel to command,
The push the grog about.
I'll give, cried little Jack my Poll,
Sailing in comely state,
Top gal'nt sails set she is so tall,
She looks like a first rate;
Ah! would she take her Jack in tow;
A voyage for life throughout,
No better birth I'd wish to know,
Then push the grog about.
I'll give cried I my charming Nan,
Trim handsome, neat and tight;
What joy so fine as ship to man
Oh! she's my heart's delight:
So well she bears the storms of life
I'd sail the world throughout,
Brave every toil for such a wife,
Then push the grog about.
Thus to describe Poll, Peg, or Nan;
Each his best manner tried,
'Till summon'd by the empty can,
[Page 21]They to their hammocks hied:
Yet still they did their vigils keep,
Though the huge can was out,
For in soft visions gentle sleep,
Still push'd the grog about.
SONG IV, WIVES and SWEETHEARTS,—Mr. Harper.
TIS said we ventrous die-hards when we leave the shore,
Our Friends should mourn, lest we re
[...]
To bless their sight no more.
But this is all a notion
Bold Jack can't understand,
Some die upon the ocean,
And some on Land.
Then since 'tis clear, how e'er we steer,
No man's life's under his command,
Let tempests howl, and billows rowl;
And dangers press,
Of these in spight there there are some joys,
Us jolly tars to bless,
For Saturday Night still comes my Boys,
To drink to Poll and Bess.
One Seaman hands the Sails, another heaves the log,
The purser swops, our pay for slops,
The Landlord sells us Grog.
Thus each man to his station,
To keep Life's ship in trim
What argu
[...]s noration,
The rest is Fortune's whim.
[Page 22]Cheerly my hearts, then play your parts,
Boldly resolve to sink or swim;
The mighty surge may ruin urge,
And danger press;
Of those, in spight there are some joys.
Us jolly tars to bless,
For Saturday night still comes my boys,
To drink to Poll and Bess.
For all the World just like the ropes on board a Ship
Each man's rigg'd out, a vessel stout,
To take for Life a trip,
The shrouds and stays and braces
Are joys, and hopes, and fears,
The haliards, sheets and traces,
Still as each passion veers,
And Whim prevails, direct the Sails,
As on the Sea of Life he steers.
Then let the storm, Heaven's face deform,
And dangers press;
Of these in spight there are some joys,
All jolly tars to bless.
For Saturday night still comes my boys
To drink to POLL and BESS.
SONG V COTTAGE BOY.—Mr. CHAMBERS.
Morn shook her Locks the budding rose
smild at the dawn which pass'd away
In renovated beauty blows,
And sheds her perfume on the day.
When LU
[...]IN, Nature's rustic Child
[Page 23]Tried calm Cotentment to enjoy,
And sweetly thus in wood-notes wild,
Would chearful sing the Cottage Boy.
How blest my days since Sylvia's kind,
No other joy I wish to know,
For in her smiles soft bliss I find,
In her all gentle virtues glow.
The slaves of Fortune let me shun,
My humble Cottage to enjoy,
When toil and abor's o'er and done.
Thus chearful sung the Cottage Boy.
Returning at mild evening's hour,
Perhaps my Sylvia I may meet;
For her I'll cull the choicest flowers,
And strew them at my Fair ones feet;
Then as they drooping die, t'will prove,
That time e'en beauty will destroy,
How transient then is youthful Love,
Thus chearful sung the Cottage Boy
SONG VI. The Tear that bedews.—Mr. HARPER.
THO' Bachus may boast of his care killing bowl,
And folly in thought drowning revels delight;
Such worship alas hath no charms for the soul,
When softer devotions the sences invite;
To the arrow of fate or the canker of care,
His potions oblivious a balm may bestow,
[Page 24]But to fancy that feeds on the charms of the fair,
The death of reflection's the birth of all woe.
What soul that's possest of a dream so divine,
With riot would bid the sweet vision begone
For the tear that bedews Sensibility's shrine,
Is a drop of more worth than all Bachus's tun.
The tender excess which enamours the heart,
To few is imparted, to millions deny'd,
'Tis the brain of the victim that tempers the dart,
And fools jest at that for which Sages have dy'd.
Each change and excess hath thro' life been my doom,
And well can I speak of its joy and its strife;
The bottle affords us a glimpse thro' the gloom,
But Love's the true sun-shine that gladdens our life.
Come then rosy Venus and spread o'er my sight,
The magic illusions that ravish the soul,
Awake in my breast the soft dream of delight,
And drop from thy myrtle one leaf in my bowl.
Then deep will I drink of the nectar divine,
Nor e'er jolly God, from thy banquet remove,
But each tube of my heart ever thirst for the wine,
That's mellow'd by Friendship and sweeten'd by love.
SONG VII. KISS ME NOW OR NEVER.—Mrs. MORKIS.
THE morn was fair the month was May
the daisy spray was springing,
I left my cot and on my way
Beguild the time with singing.
Young Damon met me in the grove,
[Page 25]AND told me I was clever,
But stead of whisp'ring tales of Love,
Cried Kiss me now or never.
Amaz'd I like a statue stood
And in pretended passion
Ask'd if he thought a speech so rude,
Shou'd gain my approbation?
He smiling answer'd, ah dear maid!
That frown's a proof of favor;
I felt t'was true and faintly said
He'll leave me now or never.
The Lad was of the saucy kind
Tho' beauteous as may be,
And had the proverb on his mind,
"Faint heart ne'er won fair Lady."
His lips against my cheeks he press'd,
Cry'd here I dwell forever,
My flutt'ring heart spoke through my breast
He'll win me now or never.
He swore I ne'er should quit the place
till my consent was granted;
If I would Wed his cares would cease,
'Twas all he wish'd and wanted.
I never met in any Swain
Such Love and truth together,
So least he should not ask again,
Cry'd take me now or never.
POLL and my Partner JOE,—Mr. Harper.
I Was dy'e see a Waterman
as tight and spruce as any
'Twixt Richmond town and Horsley Down,
I turn'd an honest penny.
None could of Fortune's favors brag,
More than lucky I,
My Cot was snug, well fill'd my keg,
My grunter in the sty.
[Page 26]With
Wherry tight
And bosom light,
I cheerfully did tow;
And to complete this princely life,
Sure never man had Friend and Wife,
Like my Wife and my Partner Joe.
I roll'd in joys like these awhile,
Folks far and near caress'd me,
Till woe is me,
So lubberly,
The vermin came and press'd me.
How could I all these pleasures leave?
How with my
Wherry part?
I never so took on to grieve,
It wrung my very heart:
But when on board
They gave the word,
To foreign parts to go;
I ru'd the moment I was born;
That ever I should thus be torn
From my
Poll and my partner
Joe.
I did my duty manfully
While on the billows rolling,
And night and day
Could find my
way,
Blindfold to the main top bowling:
Thus all the dangers of the main,
Quicksands and gales of wind
I brav'd in hopes to taste again,
The joys I left behind.
In climes afar,
The hotest war,
Pour'd broadsides on the Foe,
In hopes these perils to relate,
As by my side attentive fate
My
Poll and my Partner
Joe.
[Page 27]
At last it pleas'd his Majesty
To give peace to the nation,
And honest hearts
From foreign parts
Came home for consolation.
Like light'ning—for I felt new life,
Now safe from all alarms—
I rush'd and found my
Friend and
Wife
Lock'd in each others arms
Yet fancy not
I bore my lot,
Tame like a lubber—No—
For seeing I was finely trick'd,
Plump out of their Birth I boldly kick'd
My
Poll and my Partner
Joe.
The Flowing CAN.
A Sailors Life's a Life of
Woe,
He works now late now early,
Now up and down now too and fro.
What then he takes it chearly.
Bless'd with a smiling can of grog
If duty call, Stand rise or fall,
To Fates last verge he'll jog;
The cadge to weigh; the sheets belay
He does it with a
wish;
To heave the Lead, Or to cat head,
The pond'rous anchor fish;
For while the grog goes round
All sence of dangers drown'd;
We despise it to a man:
We sing a little, and laugh a little,
And Work a little, and swear a little,
And Fiddle a little, and foot it a little,
And swig the Flowing can.
If howling
winds and roaring Seas
[Page 28]
Give proof of coming danger;
We view the Storm, our heart at ease
For
Jack's to fear a stranger.
Blest
with a smiling Grog
we fly
Where now below, We headlong go,
Now rise on mountains high;
Spite of the gale, We hand the sail,
Or take the needful reef;
Or man the deck, to clear some Wrech
To give the Ship relief:
Though perils threat around
All sence of dangers drown'd;
We despise it to a man:
We sing a little &c.
But yet think not our case is hard.
Though storms at sea thus tear us,
For coming home (
a sweet Reward!)
With smiles our
Sweethearts greet us;
Now to the friendly grog
we quaff
Our am'rous toast; He
[...] we love most
And gaily sing and Laugh;
The Sails we furl; Then for each girl
The petticoat display:
The deck we clear, Then three times cheer
As we their charms survey:
And then the grog goes round,
All sense of danger
drown'd,
We despise it to a man:
We sing a little &c.
[Page]
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PRINTING, In general, executed in the neatest manner, and at reasonable PRICES.
[Page]
IOVAT IN SYLVIS HABITARE
Just PUBLISHED and SOLD by ENOCH STORY, At his Printing Office, in Fourth-Street, nearly opposite th [...] Indian Queen (No. 36)—Whe [...] may be had—(in 2 vol [...] neatly bound, gilt and letter'd) Price 6s. 9d. vol.
The American Theatre.
Being an excellent Collection of PLAYS, from Bell's Briti [...] Edition. Ornamented with a beautiful Frontispiece. F [...] in an elegant Attitude crowning Garrick, with a wreath never Fading Bays.—Contents of 1st vol. The Gamest Earl of Essex. Gustavus Vassa. Widow of Malabar. [...]—Vol. 2d. The Grecian Daughter. The Suspi [...] Husband. True Born Irishman. Selima and Azore. T [...] First Second and Third Parts of the Poor Soldier. [...] Priso [...] at large