Anne Hunter (Энн Хантер)

Laura to Petrarch

O Friend too dearly lov'd, O name ador'd!
My fancy's idol, and my reason's lord!
In vain a powerful duty bids us part,
Thou still art present to this bleeding heart.
Could the light breeze beyond the mountains bear
The sighs of anguish, and the silent tear;
Could my sad thoughts be present to thy mind,
Where thy idea with my life is twin'd,
E'en thou content, wouldst own I stand the test,
And well deserve the heart I have possess'd.
Dull ling'ring time creeps sad and slowly on,
Health fades, and youth with all its charms are gone:
But love remains unfaded, unimpair'd,
Where hope's enchanting voice was never heard;
Yet restless wishes, ever anxious cares,
All she can feel who loves, and who despairs,

Were fair delights, compar'd to that dark hour,
When doubt shall whisper, ' thou art lov'd no more.'
O let me sink in earth, that pang to save,
And 'scape distraction in the friendly grave!
By the wan lustre of the moon's pale beam,
I weave in fancy's loom the waking dream;
And now, methinks, the debt of nature paid,
This agitated heart at peace is laid,
A frozen clod, by death's cold hand comprest,
Each quiv'ring nerve and throbbing pulse at rest;
I mark the mourning train, I hear the knell,
Which bids the busy world a last farewell:
Then, clad in weeds of woe, I see thee come,
For calumny shall slumber o'er the tomb,
And frowning virtue shall forgive the tear
Which falls on lost affection's sacred bier.
With quick and troubled step I hear thee tread
The dreary chambers of the silent dead;
A gleaming torch directs thy eager eyes
To where thy Laura's clay-cold image lies;
I see thy bosom heave, I hear thy bursting sighs,

The grief thy fancied form before me wears,
Gives comfort to my heart, though steep'd in tears;
And guarded thus within fair honour's line,
Such misery has charms for souls like mine;
Thus to be lov'd, in anguish and despair,
Is bliss beyond the joys a giddy world can share.

1. Laura
2. Song 2. FAR from this throbbing bosom haste
3. Song 13. SPRING returns, the flowrets blow
4. Addressed to Mrs. G.
5. Song 11. THE anguish of my bursting heart

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