Stop Thief, or the Stolen Heart.

As sung by Miss C. FISHER.

Stop thief, stop thief, my heart is gone astray,
And I think I descry,
In yon fair lady's eye,

The delinquent who stole it away;
When it left its own breast,
It was clad in a vest

Of true love, unsullied and bright,
And naught from its hòme
Could induce it to roam,

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But the luster of loveliest light.

Stop thief, stop thief, my heart is gone astray, And I think I descry,

In yon fair lady's eye,

The delinquent who stole it away.

Stop thief, return my heart, I pray,
I would willingly give,

And pray how can I live,

If my heart be thus stolen away:
Do but think of my love,

And the loss it would prove,

Then restore it-and yet 'twere in vain;
For it is my belief,

That each eye holds a thief,

That would steal it again and again.
Stop thief, &c.

Oh, no! I'll never mention him.
As sung by Miss GEORGE.

Oh no, I'll never mention him,
His name is never heard;

My lips are now forbid to speak
That once familiar word;

From sport to sport they hurry me,
To banish my regret;

And when they win a smile from me,
They think that I forget.

They bid me seek, in change of scene,
The charms that others see;
But were I in a foreign land,
They'd find no change in me.
"Tis true that I behold no more
The valleys where we met;
I do not see that hawthorn tree,
But how can I forget?

They tell me he is happy now,
The gayest of the gay;

They hint that he forgets his vow;
But heed not what they say;
Like me, perhaps, he struggles with

Each feeling of regret,

But if he loves as I have lov'd,

He never can forget.

Let this brow, on thy bosom reclining.

Let this brow, on thy bosom reclining,
Cease to ponder on pageants gone by;
Let these eyes, dimm'd with fruitless repining,
Dwell no longer on life's darken'd sky.
For where else may these temples, reposing,
But on that couch of peace, slumber free;
And where else may these swollen eyelids, closing,
Safely rest, but, dear woman, with thee?

Yet when fate steals thee hence for our chast'ning, Adding griefs to be baffled alone,

O'er the world's weary waste then, while hast'ning,
What shall soothe us like loveliness gone?
Lo! a bed 'neath the turf is preparing,

To its bosom the wanderer shall flee:
For with woman no longer life sharing,
Where, O grave! shall we rest, but with thee?

The Carrier Pigeon.

As sung by Mrs. HOLMAN.

Come hither, thou beautiful rover,
Thou wanderer of earth and of air;
Who bearest the sighs of a lover,

And bringest him news of his fair.
Bend hither thy light waving pinion,
And show me the gloss of thy neck;
Oh! perch on my hand, dearest minion,
And turn up thy bright eye and peck.

Here is bread of the whitest and sweetest,
And there is a sip of red wine,
Though thy wing is the lightest and flectest,
'Twill be fleeter when nerv'd by the vine.
I have written on rosc-scented paper,
With thy wing quill a soft billetdoux ;
I have melted the wax in love's taper,
'Tis the color of true hearts, sky blue.

I have fastened it under thy pinion,
With a blue ribbon round thy soft neck,
So go from me, beautiful minion,

While the pure ether shows not a speck :
Like a cloud in the dim distance flecting,
Like an arrow he hurries away,
And farther and farther retreating,
He is lost in the clear blue of day.

All hail to the Brave and Free.

As sung by Miss CLARA FISHER.

All hail to the brave and free,

On land or on rolling sea,

Whose hosts advance, with sword and lance,
In the cause of liberty.

And whether in triumph's car,
They follow vict'ry's star,

Or patriots fall 'neath glory's pall,
They still are the pride of the war.
Then hail to the brave and free,
On land or on rolling sea,

Whose hosts advance, with sword and lance,
In the cause of liberty.

Oh, who on the rolls of fame,
Shall boast the highest name?

Or who shall bear, from woman fair,

Those smiles which the world would claim? For whom shall the song arise, Which a people send the skies? For whom shall bloom, on the battle tomb The laurel which never dies? Oh, none but the brave and free,

On land, &c.

Then raise our flag on high,

A meteor 'gainst the sky;

With rolling drum, we'll proudly come,
To guard it, or to die.

Firm place the lance in rest,
Against a faithful breast;

The trumpets call, obey we all,

And valor shall do the best.

And then with the brave and free,

On land, &c.

C

Wha'll be King but Charlie.
As sung by Mr. KEENE.

The news frae Moidart cam yestreen,
Wull sune gar mony farlie,
For ship o' war ha'e just come in,
And landed Royal Charlie.

Come thro' the heather, around him gather,
Ye're all the welcomer early;
Around him cling wi' all your kin,

For wha'll be king but Charlie.

Come through the heather, around him gather,
Come Ronald, come Donald, come a' thegither,
And crown your rightfu' lawfu' king,
For wha'll be king but Charlie.

The Highland clans, wi' sword in hand,
Frae John o' Groat's to Airlie,

Ha'e to a man resolv'd to stand

Or fa' wi' Royal Charlie.

Come through the heather, &c.

The Lowlands a', baith great an' sma,'
Wi' mony a lord and laird, ha'e
Declared for Scotia's king and law,
And speir ye wha but Charlie.

Come through the heather, &c.

There's no lass in a' the land,
But vows, baith late an' early,

To man she'll ne'er gi'e heart or hand,
Wha wadna fecht for Charlie.

Come through the heather, &c.

Then here's a health to Charlie's cause,
And be't complete and early,

His very name our heart's bluid warms-
To arms for Royal Charlie.

Come through the heather, &c.