Hard is the fate of him who loves (Elizabeth Turner)
- Editor: Christopher Shaw (submitted 2023-10-04). Score information: A4, 3 pages, 410 kB Copyright: CC BY SA
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First published: c.1756 (n/d)
Original text and translations
Hard is the fate of him who loves,
Yet dare not tell his trembling pain,
But to the sympathetic groves,
But to the lonely list'ning plain.
Oh! When she blesses next your shade,
Oh! When her footsteps next are seen,
In flow'ry tracks along the mead,
In fresher mazes o'er the green,
Ye gentle spirits of the vale,
To whom the tears of love are dear,
From dying lilies waft a gale,
And sigh my sorrows in her ear.
Oh! tell her what she cannot blame,
Tho' fear my tongue must ever bind;
Oh! tell her that my virtuous flame
Is as her spotless soul refin'd.
Not her own guardian angel's eyes
With chaster tenderness his care,
Not purer her own wishes rise,
Not holier her own sighs in pray'r.
But if at first her virgin fear
Should start at love's suspected name,
With that of friendship soothe her ear;
True love and friendship are the same.