Young Benson'S Song

My fair home is no longer mine; From its roof-tree I'm driven away. Alas! who will tend the old vine, Which I planted in infancy's day! The garden, the beautiful flowers, The oak with its branches on high, Dear friends of my happiest hours, Among thee I long hoped to die. The briar, the moss, and the bramble, Along the green paths will run wild: The paths where I once used to ramble, An innocent, light-hearted child.

DUET (The Squire and Edmunds)

Squire. Listen, though I do not fear you, Listen to me, ere we part.

Edmunds. List to you! Yes, I will hear you.

Squire. Yours alone is Lucy's heart, I swear it, by that Heav'n above me.

Edmunds. What! can I believe my ears! Could I hope that she still loves me?

Squire. Banish all these doubts and fears, If a love were e'er worth gaining, If love were ever fond and true, No disguise or passion feigning, Such is her young love for you.

Squire. Listen, though I do not fear you, Listen to me, ere we part.

Edmunds. List to you! yes, I will hear you, Mine alone is her young heart.