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Twelve songs set to music by William Jackson of Exeter. Op. 4. London, c.1775.
Lyrics: Anon
Let me approach my sleeping love,
And scatter round the sweetest flow'r;
Let not a sigh my bosom move,
Nor wish profane my Delia's bow'r.
How oft all lonely have I sighed,
My love in silence to conceal;
How many a fond expedient tried,
Nor dared my secret wish reveal.
Now then resolved, I'll tell my smart,
And may the moment lucky prove!
Be still, be still my beating heart!
Let me approach my sleeping love.
Yet if the dearest maid should wake,
Ah frail resolves, soon would you fly;
I know I shall not silence break,
But struck with awe and fear shall die.
I cannot trust in falt'ring speech,
In broken phrase my tale to tell;
Passion like mine no tongue can reach,
Nor eloquence can utter well.
But may some ardent look disclose
The throbs, the tumults of my heart:
With what true love my bosom glows,
Nor dares the secret to impart.
Let me approach my sleeping love,
And scatter round the sweetest flow'r;
Let not a sigh my bosom move,
Nor wish profane my Delia's bow'r.
How oft all lonely have I sighed,
My love in silence to conceal;
How many a fond expedient tried,
Nor dared my secret wish reveal.
Now then resolved, I'll tell my smart,
And may the moment lucky prove!
Be still, be still my beating heart!
Let me approach my sleeping love.
Yet if the dearest maid should wake,
Ah frail resolves, soon would you fly;
I know I shall not silence break,
But struck with awe and fear shall die.
I cannot trust in falt'ring speech,
In broken phrase my tale to tell;
Passion like mine no tongue can reach,
Nor eloquence can utter well.
But may some ardent look disclose
The throbs, the tumults of my heart:
With what true love my bosom glows,
Nor dares the secret to impart.