Poem by Anne Hunter

Song 10. O Tuneful voice, I still deplore

O Tuneful voice, I still deplore
Those accents which, tho' heard no more,
Still vibrate on my heart;
In echo's cave I long to dwell,
And still would hear the sad farewell,
When we were doom'd to part.
Bright eyes, O that the task were mine,
To guard the liquid fires that shine,
And round your orbits play;
To watch them with a vestal's care,
And feed with smiles a light so fair.
That it may ne'er decay.

1. The Lamentation of Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots
2. Addressed to Mrs. G.
3. A Vow to Fortune
4. Epitaph for My Father
5. Song 4. THE moments fly, and we must part

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