by Anne Hunter (1742 - 1821)
Hope
Language: English
I heard a voice at dead of night, Rise softly on the swelling blast, It fill’d my soul with sad delight, The echo of the past. It seemed to say, "O ne'er forget, The days of fond affection flown, If William be remembered yet, Believe his heart thy own. Believe the glories of the East, The dangers of the frozen sea. Nor time, nor distance have effaced, The love he felt for thee.
Authorship:
- by Anne Hunter (1742 - 1821) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Harriet Abrams (1760 - 1825), "Hope", published 1803 [ voice and piano ], London : Lavenu & Mitchell [sung text checked 1 time]
Researcher for this page: Johann Winkler
This text was added to the website: 2023-10-06
Line count: 12
Word count: 73