A BALLAD OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. Anne Hunter (née Home) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Hunter, Anne Home (Mrs. John), 1742-1821. Poems, by Mrs. John Hunter. London Printed for T. Payne, Mews Gate, by T. Bensley, Bolt Court, Fleet Street 1802 pp. 86-90.

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A BALLAD OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY . We speak — ......... " of one whose hand , " Like the base indian , throws a pearl away , richer than all his tribe . " SHAKESPEAR . 'TWAS at the time the moon's broad shield Shone 'midst the vaulted skies , While trembling round , in regal state , The starry myriads rise . Her pale beams silver'd o'er the gate Where sculptur'd frenzy glares , And moping melancholy scowls Upon a world of cares . From these dark cells , where horror reigns , And wild distraction bides , A hapless maniac burst her chains , And through the portal glides . Onward she press'd , with eager haste , So swift she seem'd to fly , One object fill'd her troubled breast , And fix'd her wand'ring eye . Loose flow'd her robes , and on her breast Chill fell the ev'ning dew ; She felt it not : cold blew the blast , The blast unheeded blew . Forward she press'd , with eager haste The well known mansion sought , Where pass'd in youth those happier days , Which still return'd in thought . Through lighted halls of gay resort , And trim domestic bands , She pass'd resistless , and at once Before the banquet stands . O most unlook'd-for at that board , And most unwelcome guest ; Cold is for thee the marble heart , Which robb'd thee of thy rest . Appall'd he view'd her alter'd form , And met her vacant eye ; The blood forsook his conscious cheek , And nature forc'd a sigh . With the wild glance of keen despair She ey'd the shining train , Of lords , and knights , and ladies fair , Who silent all remain . Then recollecting , quick she cried , " Why was I hence convey'd , By fiends accurst , to darkness drear , And thou deniest me aid ? " Where are my children ? are they near ? O bring them to my sight ! Alas ! I rave ; banish'd they fled ; Like me forgotten quite . " I burn , I burn ! a wheel of fire Whirls round my tortur'd brain : They come ; they tear them from my arms , And I resist in vain . " Ah ! see they weep ; I cannot weep ! Frown not , nor look unkind ; That gentle pity sheds her balm To sooth my troubled mind . " Fair blooms thy bride in pride of youth ; But will she love like me ? The holy knot is often tied , And yet the heart is free . " Were not ambition , wealth , and show , The aim of her desires ? Is it from youth declining age Can hope for mutual fires ? " For me , I lov'd thee more than life , My children , or my fame ; Nor seiz'd a shelter from disgrace , Beneath thy offer'd name . " But , hark ! methinks a distant bell Low warns me to attend , Where the last gleam of parting hope Marks out a kinder friend . " Death is the friend I go to meet , And from his bounty crave All that can now remain for me , An undistinguish'd grave . " She stopt , scream'd wild ; with frantic laugh She darted to the door , And , in the passing of a thought , Fled , to return no more .