by
Anne Hunter (1742 - 1821)
Fidelity
Language: English
Our translations: DUT FRE
While hollow burst the rushing winds,
And heavy beats the show'r,
This anxious, aching bosom finds
No comfort in its pow'r.
For ah, my love, it little knows
What thy hard fate may be,
What bitter storm of fortune blows,
What tempests trouble thee.
A wayward fate hath spun the thread
On which our days depend,
And darkling in the checker'd shade,
She draws it to an end.
But whatsoe'er may be our doom,
The lot is cast for me,
For in the world or in the tomb,
My heart is fix'd on thee.
Text Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- DUT Dutch (Nederlands) [singable] (Lau Kanen) , "Trouw", copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Fidélité", copyright © 2008, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 16
Word count: 94
Trouw
Language: Dutch (Nederlands) after the English
Bij ’t holle huilen van de wind,
De storm die raast met macht,
Dit angstig, hunk’rend hart, het vindt
Geen kalmte in zijn kracht.
Want, ach, mijn lief, ’t weet nauw’lijks haast
Wat jij te dragen krijgt,
Hoe koud de storm van ’t noodlot blaast,
Welk noodweer jou bedreigt.
Een grillig noodlot spon de draad
Waaraan ons leven deint;
Een donk’re schim met zwart gelaat,
Die trekt aan ’t langste eind.
Maar wat er komt nog op ons af,
Ik ben gedoemd tot trouw,
Want op de aard’ of in het graf:
Mijn hart zit vast aan jou.
Text Authorship:
Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2016-11-27
Line count: 16
Word count: 98
