Anne Hunter (Энн Хантер)

The Dirge of Amoret

WHY glide the hours so swift away,
When love and fortune shine?
Years seem'd but as a passing day,
When Amoret was mine.
Was mine ! sad sounds, ye ring my knell,
And bid to joy a long farewell!
Her voice could sooth the soul of care,
And lull despair to rest;
Why was she form'd divinely fair?
And why was I so bless'd?
So bless'd no more; I hear the knell,
Which bids the world a long farewell. 

1. The Lamentation of Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots
2. Epitaph for My Father
3. To My Son, Age 26, a Captain of Infantry in Portugal, 1798
4. Laura to Petrarch
5. Ode to the Conduit Vale, Blackheath

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