Their works

Hester Lawrence's song to Hester Thrale

Hester Lynch Thrale wrote in Thraliana on Aug/Sep 1777…

Herbert Lawrence is a Man of great good Sense, much Knowledge, sound Morality and rather agreeable Address: his Principles with regard to Religion are some what loose I fear, his Temper is peevish, and his Affections cold. I once had an extremely strong regard for him, but his Behaviour on the Illness and Death of my Son in the fatal Year 1776. shut my heart against him suddenly, and I could never open it to him more. he wrote some pretty Verses and said some clever Things and I have a Loss of his Acquaintance.

The following Song he wrote in my Praise forsooth is not a bad one.

If all that I lov’d were her Face,
From looking I sure might refrain;
In others her Likeness might trace
Or her Absence might ease all my Pain:

Content from her Charms I retir’d
Nor knew I till then how I lov’d;
What present my Passion admir’d
When absent my reason approv’d.

Then how should I hope for relief
When all I can see is Disdain;
No Pity in her for my Grief,
No merit in me to complain;

Yet will I not Fortune upbraid,
Though robb’d of my Freedom and Ease;
Still proud of the Choice I have made
Though hopeless it ever can please.

Hester Thrale's song to Herbert Lawrence

A year later, in August 1778 in Thraliana, Hester wrote responsive verses for Herbert Lawrence to put to music …

Whence comes it Phillis since we met,
Our Sylvan Games to celebrate;
When Sports went round—with magick Mien
You tript it lightly o’er the Green,
That something ever since that Day
Upon my Spirits seems to prey?The pleasing Sense of sweet Repose
No more my beating Bosom knows;
And ev’ry Symptom seems to prove
The Melancholy Truth—I love:
Nay never frown, for if I do,
Assure yourself—it is not You.

She later wrote in Thraliana…

In former days when I lived in Dean Street, particularly the last year my Father lived, & during the interval between his Death & my Marriage, we were very often visited by Herbert Lawrence; Brother to General {Charles Lawrence, Govenor of Nova Scotia 1753-1760} who courted Miss Rich & died in America: He was a capital musician I believe, & played sweetly on the German Flute; he never could make me Sing, but nothing would serve him but I must at least write a Song, & he would set it to Musick: I looked over Boileau, and imitating his Epigram of Tout me fait peine & depuis un Jour, &c. I wrote the following Lines which he set sure enough & Beard sung it one Spring at Ranelagh.

What is it, say, what is it, pray,
That gives me so much pain?
If love is gone, I carry on,
And hope to love again.

The rose from thorns, the bee from flowers,
The lily from the thorn,
Then why not I, for what made I
In love, since I was born?

If tears will last, if care is past,
If I have lost a heart,
One heart may gain a love again
Though never the same heart.