THE
MOTHER'S
NURSERY SONGS.
BY
THOMAS HASTINGS,
AUTHOR OF "DISSERTATION ON MUSICAL TASTE"--ONE OF THE COMPILERS
OF "MUSICA SACRA"--"SPIRITUAL SONGS"--"INFANT MINSTREL," &c. &c.
[Illustration]
NEW-YORK:
PUBLISHED BY JOHN P. HAVEN,
148, NASSAU STREET.
1835.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1834, by
JOHN P. HAVENS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States
for the Southern District of New York.
PREFACE.
The author of the following pages was one day conversing with a lady of
some distinction, relative to the importance of teaching young children
to sing, when a question arose--whether any thing could be done by the
mother in this respect, during the period of the early infancy of her
offspring? This inquiry, with the discussion that ensued, gave rise to
the present publication.
Much, no doubt, can be done in early infancy, on the mere principle of
imitation. Exercises for this purpose should be exceedingly simple; and,
as far as possible, adapted to the infantile capacity. Great originality
will hardly be expected in such a work as this: yet the materials
here presented are, for the most part, such as have not before been
published. A few extracts, have been furnished from the writings of Jane
Taylor: And for many of the other little poems, the author is happy to
acknowledge his obligations to several literary friends, among whom are
the Rev. James Alexander, Professor of Rhetoric in Princeton College,
New Jersey, Mrs. Sigourney, of Hartford, Connecticut, well known as the
author of occasional pieces of great poetic merit, and Mrs. Brown, of
Munson, Massachusetts, the writer of several interesting anonymous hymns
now in general circulation.
The object of the work, as will be readily inferred from its special
characteristics, is to aid mothers in attuning the voices of their
infant offspring, and inspiring them with the love of vocal music. When
the Savior was on earth young children cried hosanna: and ere he is
again revealed in the glories of the latter day--his praise shall be
perfected out of the mouth of babes and sucklings. Yet they must first
be instructed; and this work should be commenced by the mother.
INTRODUCTION.
It is a point now universally admitted among practical musicians, that
all children, the deaf and dumb excepted, may be taught to sing; and
that the difference of natural talent in this respect is, probably,
not greater, than in reference to other departments of education. The
faculty in question is never truly instinctive, but always in a great
measure acquired. Nature furnishes us with organs, and with powers of
perception. Cultivation must do the rest.
The fact that so large a portion of the present generation are unable
to sing, is not to be attributed to physical deficiencies, but to
unfortunate circumstances in the history of early education. In
countries where music is continually taught in the primary schools,
the children, as a matter of course, all learn to sing: and the same
experiment, wherever it has been tried in our own country, has led to
the same happy result. This circumstance alone shows the importance of
early cultivation. If music is neglected till years of maturity, it
will, in the majority of instances, continue to be disregarded through
life. Infancy is undoubtedly the most favorable period for commencing
the work. The foundation must be laid then if distinguished excellence
is ever afterwards to be attained.
Adults, with voices of a most unpromising character imaginable, have
sometimes, it is true, been taught to sing. The thing in its nature is
not impracticable, but it is very difficult. It requires time and labor
and perseverance, such as few, comparatively, are found to possess. But
with young children the task is neither difficult nor laborious. The
principle chiefly employed in forming the voice is imitation. The child,
under favorable circumstances, acquires the management of its voice
in singing just as it acquires in speaking the accurate pronunciation
of the mother tongue. In both cases it is the imitative pupil of its
mother, or nurse. Mothers should think of this, and not neglect to stir
up the musical gift that is within them. Though that gift should be
small, it might at least suffice to initiate the listening child in the
practice of an important art which would afterwards be more successfully
prosecuted.
One who wishes to acquire practical skill as a player on a musical
instrument, must of necessity begin by drawing forth such tones or
executing such passages, as can be mastered with the greatest facility;
deferring such as are more difficult to a later period of cultivation.
For all the purposes of vocal training, the mother may regard her
infant child as such an instrument, not doubting but perseverance will
accomplish the desired object.
There is a special season in infancy when children are full of mimickry.
Then, a great portion of their daily employment, while in perfect
health, is like that of the mocking-bird, to be imitating every pleasant
sound that falls within their hearing. Their earliest efforts in this
respect will necessarily be rude, but, by constant practice, their
talent is found to improve; while, at the same time they acquire an
increasing fondness for the exercise. Does not nature evidently point
out this period as the precise time for making musical impressions upon
the child that will be strong and indelible?
Let no one suppose that the voice is necessarily injured by early
cultivation. If the little one is not induced to sing too much or
too loud for its general health, there will be nothing to fear. Its
voice will improve much in proportion to its practice; and when, in
subsequent years, its intonation becomes for a little period broken
and discordant, it will be sure to be restored in due time. Every
male child, sooner or later, must pass through such a change, as the
unavoidable result of physical changes in the structure or conformation
of its organs. Daily, moderate practice will be the obvious and certain
remedy.
Previous to the period of infantile mimickry above mentioned, the
affectionate mother will often have been soothing her child with the
voice of song. When that period arrives, let her continue the practice
in melodies as simple as those of numbers _one_ and _two_, in part
first of this work. And as the child begins in the smallest degree to
play the mimic, let her in turn become the imitator, so far as to seize
upon every note which has resemblance to music, and thus encourage the
child to repeat its efforts. The mother may thus gradually draw out and
form its voice for music, just as she teaches it the articulations of
the native tongue. The latter process she well understands. She begins
with the simplest syllables only, and as she proceeds with those that
are more difficult, the exercise is carefully adapted to the gradual
progress of the child. Nothing is forced. Every thing is made pleasant
and amusing to the little pupil: and the mother at every step is so
amply rewarded for her assiduity, as to feel that her labor is but
another name for delightful recreation.
The same course in reference to singing would be rewarded with the same
success. Though the mother should be quite ignorant of the simplest
principles of the science; her skill in minstrelsy would suffice for the
work immediately before her. Let her also frame some simple phrases of
melody, that are very similar to those she notices in the mimickry of
her child, gradually heightening their character as the child improves
its vocal powers. All these exercises perhaps will be inarticulate; and
in some cases the child will make more rapid progress in song than in
speech.
Of all the articulations that fall from the unpractised lips of infancy,
the first and perhaps the sweetest that ever greet the maternal ear,
are those of _ba_, _pa_, _na_, _ma_, _ta_, _da_, followed afterwards by
their compounds _papa_, _mama_, &c. The mother should not fail to set
them to music in some such clauses as these that follow
[Illustration: ba, ba, ba, ba, pa, pa, pa, pa, na, na, na, na, ta, ta,
da, da.]
A considerable portion of time, it is true, may elapse, before such
clauses as these will be fully understood; and the child perhaps will
incline to substitute other clauses in their place, and thus become its
own composer. The only important point here, is to see that its tones
are rendered musical.
In process of time let the musical passages be augmented somewhat after
the following method, observing to sing them in a gutteral and not in a
nasal manner:
[Illustration: pa mama, pa mama, da na na, da na na, mama, papa, dada.]
[Illustration: father dear, mother dear, brother dear.]
The process from such passages as these, to such as constitute the first
and second lullabys of this collection will be easy: and thenceforward
less skill in adaptation will be required.
The preceding directions may suffice for the object before us: if
followed with perseverance the child will begin to sing long before it
is old enough to understand the rules of the art; and this, much to its
own amusement and to the gratification of its affectionate parents.
Some may doubt the practicability of the course here recommended; but
certainly it is an easy one. Let them be persuaded to try it faithfully
and perseveringly, and the author will consent to be responsible for its
success.
PART I.
THE CRADLE.
As the songs under this head will be employed by the mother, chiefly in
soothing her infant to sleep, or in mitigating its sufferings in hours
of sickness or distress, it seems not necessary that all the language
should be adapted to the infantile capacity. It may suffice that the
words contain certain easy syllables or phrases, which, by their
perpetual recurrence, make strong impressions upon the ear of the child.
The exercise of singing should, however, be so managed as to afford
pleasure to the child: for otherwise its taste will be injured.
LULLABY.
[Illustration]
Lullaby, lullaby,
Do not wake and weep;
Softly in the cradle lie,
Sleep O, sleep.
Lullaby, lullaby,
Hear thy mother's voice;
Softly on her bosom lie,
Then she'll rejoice.
SLEEP, BABY, SLEEP.
[Illustration]
Sleep, baby, sleep,
No longer weep;
Near thee sits thy little brother,
Close beside thee is thy mother,
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Sleep, baby, sleep,
No longer weep;
Israel's Shepherd watches o'er thee;
No rude danger lies before thee,
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Sleep, baby, sleep,
No longer weep;
Germ of beauty, bud and blossom,
Rest upon thy Savior's bosom,
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Sleep, baby, sleep,
No longer weep;
Life has many a raging billow--
Rest upon thy downy pillow,
Sleep, baby, sleep.
HUSHABY.
[Illustration]
Hushaby, hushaby,
Baby, do not weep,
On thy downy pillow lie,
Softly, softly sleep.
Hushaby, hushaby,
Now thine eyelids close;
While thy mother sitting by,
Watches thy repose.
Hushaby, hushaby,
Think of no alarm,
Angel spirits round thee fly,
Guarding thee from harm.
Hushaby, hushaby,
Slumber sweet be given;
On thy downy pillow lie,
Precious gift from heav'n!
SLUMBER SWEET.
[Illustration]
Slumber sweet
Thine eyelids greet
My infant daughter dear:
No footstep rude
Shall here intrude,
Nor stranger shall come near.
Slumber sweet
Thine eyelids greet
Within thy mother's arms;
She little tells
How feeling steals
O'er all thy rising charms.
Slumber sweet
Thine eyelids greet
And gentle dreams be thine;
To thee be given
The bliss of heav'n,
Where cherub angels shine.
SOFTLY IN THE CRADLE LIE.
[Illustration]
Softly in the cradle lie,
Thy father's hope, thy mother's joy;
Sweetly rest in balmy sleep,
Do not wake to sigh and weep.
Softly in the cradle lie;
A mother's heart thy wants supply;
She can rest if thou repose,
Sweetly then thine eyelids close.
Softly in the cradle lie,
Frail bud of immortality;
Soon thy blossom may unfold
Fragrant mid the harps of gold.
O, DO NOT WAKE.
[Illustration]
O, do not wake, sweet little one,
The night is dark and drear;
All that a mother could have done,
Has been perform'd with care.
The pillow's soft on which you rest,
And sweetly you have fed;
Still lean upon your mother's breast
Your weary little head.
O, do not wake, sweet little one,
Nor tremble with alarm;
The Hand unseen you live upon
Preserves you still from harm.
WELCOME, WELCOME.
[Illustration]
Welcome, welcome, little stranger
To this busy world of care:
Nothing can thy peace endanger,
Nothing now thy steps ensnare.
Mother's heart is fill'd with pleasure,
All her feelings are awake;
Gladly would she, little treasure,
All thy pains and suff'rings take.
May'st thou, if design'd by heaven,
Future days and years to see,
Soothe her, make her passage even;
Let her heart rejoice in thee.
May her anxious cares and labors
Be repaid by filial love;
And thy soul be crown'd with favors
From the boundless source above.
JANE TAYLOR.
HOW GENTLY SHE SLEEPS.
[Illustration]
How gently she sleeps,
How silent she keeps,
Her breath is as soft as the morn;
While every new grace
In the dear one I trace,
To my bosom in transport is borne.
No sorrow she knows,
This hour of repose,
Nor hunger nor thirst nor disease;
The world with its cares,
And temptations and snares,
Has never invaded her peace.
I've linger'd awhile,
To gaze on that smile,
So sweetly that plays on her lips;
Some innocent dream
Or some heavenly beam,
Is visiting her while she sleeps.
My lov'd one awake,
Thy slumberings break,
My daughter, 'tis time to arise;
Thou joy of my heart,
A lent blessing thou art,
To be given again to the skies.
O DEAR ONE.
[Illustration]
FOR A CHILD DANGEROUSLY ILL.
O dear one, how sad is that moan,
How languid and sickly that eye;
My bosom responds to each groan,
And echos each deep-breathing sigh.
Those fluttering pulsations I trace,
The anguish that sits on thy brow,
The paleness that covers thy face,
Thy voice that is languid and low.
O dear one, how deep is the grief,
That withers my desolate heart;
Kind Heav'n bring thee speedy relief,
Or thou from thy mother wilt part.
O MY PRECIOUS LITTLE GEM.
[Illustration]
FOR A FATHERLESS CHILD.
O my precious little gem,
While I hold thee to my breast,
May some heav'n inspiring dream
Soothe thy spirit into rest.
But thy mother's heart is riv'n,
Bitter anguish she must feel;
Nothing but the balm of heav'n,
Can her wounded spirit heal.
Dark the night and dread the hour
When thy father lay so low;
When he felt the monster's pow'r,
Who could tell thy mother's woe!
But, thou image of his love,
May'st in heav'n thy father see;
Ere his spirit soar'd above
'Twas his latest pray'r for thee.
SAFE SLEEPING.
[Illustration]
Safe sleeping on its mother's breast,
The smiling babe appears
Now sweetly sinking into rest,
Now wash'd in sudden tears:
Hush, hush, my little baby dear,
There's nobody to hurt you here.
Without a tender mother's care
The little thing must die;
Its chubby hands too feeble are
One service to supply:
And not a tittle does it know
What kind of world it's come into.
Full many a summer sun must glow,
And lighten up the skies,
Before its tender limbs can grow
To any thing of size:
And all the while the mother's eye
Must every little want supply.
Then surely when each little limb,
Shall grow to healthy size;
And youth and manhood strengthen him
For toil and enterprize,
His mother's kindness is a debt
He never, never will forget.
JANE TAYLOR.
HUSH, HUSH.
[Illustration]
FOR THE SPRING OF THE YEAR.
Hush, hush,
While flowrets blush,
This blossom must repose,
Thy mother's joy,
My infant boy--
No rival beauty[1] knows.
Hush, hush,
On every bush,
While birds are singing shrill;
My little child,
So sweet and mild,
Must now be soft and still.
Hush, hush,
While riv'lets gush,
Refrain thy rising tears,
For every grief,
We'll seek relief,
And soothe thy infant cares.
Hush, hush,
What feelings rush
Within a mother's breast;
Be this her pray'r
That thou may'st share
In heav'n's eternal rest.
[1] The judicious mother, however fond of her infant son, will not
desire him to _understand_ this sentiment.
WEEP NOT.
[Illustration]
FOR A SICK CHILD.
Weep not, O little one,
Though thou art very ill,
For thou art not alone
Thy woes to feel.
Each sigh of thine will heave
An anxious mother's breast;
Each accent of thy grief
Will break her rest.
Each tear that thou dost shed
Will cause her grief to flow:
Her heart, since thine doth bleed,
Is bleeding too.
One Hand alone can heal;
That hand is ever near:
O who can doubt His skill--
Or gracious care!
MOTHER DEAR, THE BABY CRIES.
[Illustration]
Mother dear, the baby cries,
Where is the nurse?
Every thing that sister tries
Makes him only worse.
Come, mother, come;
Dear mother, come!
Every thing that sister tries
Makes him only worse.
Mother dear, the baby cries,
Is he not ill?
Not a thing that brother tries
Ever keeps him still.
Come, mother, come,
Dear mother, come!
Not a thing that brother tries
Ever keeps him still.
Mother dear, the baby cries,
What shall we do?
In the cradle here he lies,
Waiting for you.
Come, mother, come,
Dear mother, come!
In the cradle here he lies
Waiting for you.