An appropriate Chorus to be sung round the Tomb by the Virgins.
Quit the bustle of the Bay,
Hasten, Virgins, come away;
Hasten to the mountain's brow,
Leave, oh! leave St. Ives below!
Haste to breathe a purer air
Virgins fair, and pure as fair.
Quit St. Ives and all her treasures,
Fly her soft voluptuous pleasures,
Fly her sons and all the wiles,
Lurking in their wanton smiles;
Fly her splendid midnight halls,
Fly the revels of her Balls;
Fly, oh! fly the chosen seat,
Where vanity and fashion meet.
Hither hasten; form the ring,
Round the tomb in chorus sing,
And on the lofty mountain's brow
Aptly dite,
(Just as we should be, all in white)
Leave all our Cowels,[146] and our cares below.
A CORNISH DIALOGUE
Between Grace Penvear and Mary Treviskey.
Greacey.
Fath and Trath than! I bleeve in ten Parishes round
Sichey Roag, sichey Vellan es nat to ba found.
Mally.
Whoats' tha' fussing, Un Greacey! long wetha Cheel Vean?