 | A Collection Of Poems |  |
57
To a Young Lady,
On her Recovery from the Small-Pox.
Midst thousand bleeding Hearts, and sighing Swains,
And Crouds of Lovers groaning with thy Chains;
When with the sad Disease thou first wert seiz'd,
The Nymphs exulted, and the Swains seem'd pleas'd.
These from thy Arrows thought themselves secure,
And those insulted o'er thy blasted Pow'r.
But lo! again their various Sorrows rise,
While keener Darts 'gin sparkle from thy Eyes:
Beauty restor'd more pow'rful thou dost prove;
The Nymphs for Envy die, the Swains for Love.
And Crouds of Lovers groaning with thy Chains;
When with the sad Disease thou first wert seiz'd,
The Nymphs exulted, and the Swains seem'd pleas'd.
These from thy Arrows thought themselves secure,
And those insulted o'er thy blasted Pow'r.
But lo! again their various Sorrows rise,
While keener Darts 'gin sparkle from thy Eyes:
Beauty restor'd more pow'rful thou dost prove;
The Nymphs for Envy die, the Swains for Love.
58
Thus while young Ammon flush'd with Conquest flew,
And to the trembling Persians nearer drew;
By sudden Sickness seiz'd the Victor laid,
Darius triumph'd, and the World was glad.
But soon their Joys were spent, their Grief renew'd,
And Ammon's conqu'ring Course again pursu'd;
When by Philippus' potent Hand restor'd,
He made the subject Nations know their Lord.
And to the trembling Persians nearer drew;
By sudden Sickness seiz'd the Victor laid,
Darius triumph'd, and the World was glad.
But soon their Joys were spent, their Grief renew'd,
And Ammon's conqu'ring Course again pursu'd;
When by Philippus' potent Hand restor'd,
He made the subject Nations know their Lord.
| A Collection Of Poems | |