The Farewell, A Song.
18th Century Anne Hunter EnglishTHE FAREWELL,
A SONG.
FAR from hope, and lost to pleasure, Haste away to war's alarms! Sad I leave my soul's dear treasure For the dismal din of arms.
But, ah! for thee, I follow glory, To gain thy love I dare to die; And when my comrades tell my story, Thou shalt lament me with a sigh.
All my griefs will then be over, Sunk in death's eternal rest; You may regret a faithful lover, Though you refuse to make him bless'd.
Bestow a tear of kind compassion To grace a hapless soldier's tomb; And, ah! forgive a fatal passion, Which reason could not overcome.