The Book of Scottish Song/The Farewell 2

by Anne Hunter

For works with similar titles, see Farewell.

The Farewell.

[Mrs. John Hunter.]

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.

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