To my distant lover fly

This old Stuff I was led to imitate and modernize, & send to my Piozzi: as I rose one morning at five o’Clock unable to sleep, and breath’d a tender Sigh towards dear Milan, Here they are in their fashionable Dress, it becomes them really well enough.

From me quickly gentle Sigh,
To my distant Lover fly.

Tell him that my Soul’s in Anguish
Tell him ’tis for him I languish,
If you find him merry—say
How my Pow’rs of mirth decay;
Tell him if at Rest you find him
He has left no Rest behind him:—

From me quickly gentle Sigh,
To my distant Lover fly.

Seated at some General Board,
Should you find my Wishes Lord,
Tell him that no rich Repast
Can delight his Stella’s Taste,
Far from him whose Presence gave her
Each repast its richest Flavour.

From me quickly gentle Sigh,
To my distant Lover fly.

Should you hear some thrilling Note
Warble through that tuneful Throat,
While the fingers fine Attrition,
Aids with Art the soft Expression,
Lightly breathe upon the Strings,
Don’t disturb him while he Sings.

From me quickly gentle Sigh,
To my distant Lover fly.—

Written by Hester Lynch Thrale. Published in Public Advertiser 7 July 1779. Thraliana entry dated July 1779.