Song.—Anna, Thy Charms
song.—anna, thy charms
anna, thy charms my bosom fire,
and waste my soul with care;
but ah! how bootless to admire,
when fated to despair!
yet in thy presence, lovely fair,
to hope may be forgiven;
for sure 'twere impious to despair
so much in sight of heaven.
anna, thy charms my bosom fire,
and waste my soul with care;
but ah! how bootless to admire,
when fated to despair!
yet in thy presence, lovely fair,
to hope may be forgiven;
for sure 'twere impious to despair
so much in sight of heaven.