Chara

Chara is the Greek word for joy or happiness, and it is by this name that Samuel Davies, "the Apostle of Virginia," referred to his beloved second wife, Jean or Jane (née Holt), mother of his six children. Not only a preacher, but a poet, he poured out his love to her in verse, before he died at the young age of 38, such as in the extracts below from the Collected Poems of Samuel Davies, 1723-1761, pp. 55-68, 160:

Conjugal Love and Happiness

Connubial Love! thrice happy was the Hour
I fell a willing Captive to thy Pow'r.
...
Chara, beneath thy Influence I felt
The charming Flame; my Soul was taught to melt
In Extasies unknown, and soon began
To put the Stoic off, and soften into Man.
The Veil of Modesty, in vain confin'd
Th' alluring Beauties of thy lovely Mind:
The shining Charms beam'd thro' the fair Disguise;
Blush'd in thy Aspect, dazzled in thy Eyes;
In every Word, in all thy Conduct known.
An in thy artless Face, well-copy'd, shone --
So thro' resulgent Clouds breaks the bring Morning Sun.
...
'Twas gracious Heav'n presided o'er our Choice --
Come, Chara, then, assist my grateful Voice.
To Thee, Great God! to Thee alone we owe
This mutual Bliss, this Paradise below.
...
Chara, thou dear Partaker of my Heart,
The Hour approaches, when ev'n we must part:
We tho' in strongest Bonds of Union join'd,
Must feel the painful Rupture of the Mind.
When on the Bridal Day I took thy Hand,
And clasp'd thee to me in the nuptial Band,
This Thought did mod'rate my Exces of Joy,
"Restless Death this Union will destroy:
This splendid Jewel must not still be mine;
But cruel Fate will force me to resign."
...
Chara, this humble Monument I raise
Of our fond Passion, in my youthful Days;
That if you're doom'd the mournful Day to view,
When I shall cease to speak or write to you;
When my dull Muse shall silent lie in Death,
Or in celestial Strains employ her tuneful Breath;
To still, or rather vent your Griefs, you may
With gushing Eyes these tender Lines survey,
And as you pore upon them, sigh and say,
"Well; once I had a Friend, whose loving Soul
Did antedate these Sorrows to condole;
That early wail'd my then uncertain Doom,
And mourn'd in Prospect what I mourn as come."

To Chara

While objects various, strange and new,
In numerous Prospects rush to view,
The Tho'ts of Friends, the Tho'ts of Home
Engross my Heart and still find Room.
Chara with what strange, magic Art,
Dost thou, so distant, charm my Heart?

Not seas can quench, nor Distance cool
The flame of Love that fires my Soul.
Not works of Nature nor of Art
Can raze thine Image from my Heart.
I shrink to view those Days to come,
While cruel Absence is my Doom.
Indulgent Heav'n! contract those Days,
And give my anxious Bosom Ease.