Historic Sheet Music Collection

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Remembrance of the West, a collection of marches, waltzes, gallopades, songs, &c. Composed, arranged & selected by P. Schmidt, A.C. Winicker,
G. & F. Heidelberg, &c.

No.1. A day in Missouri : waltz / composed for the piano forte and dedicated to his friend P. Schmidt, by A. C. Winicker -- No.2. Captain Staszewski's favorite mazurka, arranged for the piano forte -- No.3. La belle rivière : a gallopade for the piano forte and dedicated to John Delafield Junr. Esqr. of Cincinnati / by A. C. Winicker -- No.4. Le brillant galop de Louisville / composé sur un motif de l'opera Zampa et dedie à Miss Sarah Bacon / par P. Schmidt -- No.5. The bride of the Greek isle : why do I weep / written by Mrs. Hemans ; the music composed and dedicated to Mrs. Mary Strack by P. Schmidt -- No.6. Mary and I : ballad / adapted & arranged for the piano forte and dedicated to Miss Mary Dawson of the Bardstown Female Academy by Paul Schmidt -- No.6 [i.e., 7]. Our home is on the sea / the poetry by Lieut. Patten, the music from P. Schmidt's Teutonia, collection of German songs, dedicated to Mr. D.H.M. McCleery by Paul Schmidt.

Philadelphia. Published by A. Fiot 196 Chestnut St.

Some of the resources may contain offensive language or negative stereotypes. Such materials should be seen in the context of the time period and as a reflection of attitudes of the time. The items are part of the historical record, and do not represent the views of the libraries or the institution.


The Bride of the Greek Isle

Why do I weep? to leave the vine
Whose clusters o'er me bend,
The myrtle yet, oh! call it mine!
The flowers I lov'd to tend
A thousand thoughts of all things dear,
like shadows o'er me sweep,
I leave my sunny childhood here,
Oh! therefore let me weep!

I leave thee, sister! we have play'd
Through many a joyous hour,
Where the silvery green of the olive shade
Hung dim o'er fount and bower.
Yes, thou and I, by stream, by shore,
In song, in prayer, in sleep,
Have been as we may be no more
Kind sister, let me weep!

I leave thee, father! eve's bright moon
Must now light other feet,
With the gather'd grapes, and lyre in tune,
Thy homeward steps to greet.
Thou, in whose voice, to bless thy child,
Lay in tones of love so deep,
Whose eye o'er all my youth hath smiled
I leave thee! let me weep!

Mother! I leave thee! on thy breast,
Pouring out joy and woe,
I have found that holy place of test
Still changeless, yet I go!
Lips, that have lull'd me with your strain,
Eyes, that have watch'd my sleep!
Will earth give love like yours again?
Kind mother! let me weep!

Mary and I

We've traver'sd yon mountain
And play'd on its brow,
We've sat by the fountain
That murmurs below;
But now bare and hoary
Our favorite tree that once spread its glory
o'er Mary and me, o'er Mary and me.

'Neath its shade my first sonnet did beauty survey
When her tear fell upon it and hallowed the lay
But the ploughshare has banished each trace round the tree
And youth's vision has vanished from Mary and me.

Yes! the vale of our fathers is desolate now
No fairy form gathers from bush and from bough;
In silence they slumber beneath the yew tree
Who times out of number blessed Mary and me.

'Tis a drear waste I wander in sunshine or shade
The mountain smiles yonder but where is the Maid?
Yon withered form bending her dim eyes on me
A tear and smile blending, by Heaven tis she!

Let the fond tear of feeling down wrinkled cheeks stray
Where time has been stealing the roses away
Our bright dream is over and near us I see
There's a green sod to cover both Mary and me.

Our Home is on the Sea

My home is on the heaving sea
Beyond the breakers' roar
I never know a though of woe,
save when I see the shore;
My life is like a flashing car,
and like a merry stave,
I whirl along the deep, huzza!
And dance upon the wave
I whril along the deep, huzza!
And dance upon the wave.

Amid the calm without a care
For aught that earth can bring
Wide rocking in the idle air
I sit aloft and sing;
When the storm booms fierce and far
Regardless of the gale
I climb the slippery shrouds huzza!
And bend the flying sail.

The woodland note is sweet to hear
And soft the hum of hives:
But there's no music to my ear
Like that which ocean gives
When first our barque with every spar
"Taught strain'd" her flight to urge
Mid rattling tramp and wild huzza
Beats back the bristling surge.

They say the landsman's bosom thrills
With deeper joy than ours
That glory crowns the sunset hills
And fragrance scents the bowers
But off! stretched seaward from the bar!
Spread out the canvass free?
And should they hail trump back huzza!
Our home is on the sea.



The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.