Catches, canons and drinking songs

to your rude health,

Text: Ye birds for whom I reared this grove‥


Ye birds for whom I reared this grove, with melting lays salute my love, my Daphne with your notes detain or I have reared my grove in vain,
ye flowers before her footsteps rise, display at once your brightest dyes, that she at once your opening charms may see, or what are all your charms to me?
ye streams if e’er your banks I loved, if e’er your native sounds improved, may each soft murmus sooth my fair, or sure ’twill deepen my despair.

Songs with this text:

Version 8e32e8d8d4ff87611fd1ef7b6f028a335f89012d (2021-10-22T17:00:34+01:00)