 | Poems (1791) |  |
229
ODE to a Virginia Nightingale, which was cured of a Fit in the Bosom of a young Lady, who afterwards nursed the Author in a dangerous Illness.
Sweet bird! whose fate and mine agree,
As far as proud humanity,
The parallel will own;
O let our voice and hearts combine,
O let us, fellow-warblers join,
Our patroness to crown.
As far as proud humanity,
The parallel will own;
O let our voice and hearts combine,
O let us, fellow-warblers join,
Our patroness to crown.
When heavy hung thy flagging wing,
When thou could'st neither move nor sing,
Of spirits void and rest;
A lovely nymph her aid apply'd,
She gave the bliss to heav'n allied,
And cur'd thee on her breast.
When thou could'st neither move nor sing,
Of spirits void and rest;
A lovely nymph her aid apply'd,
She gave the bliss to heav'n allied,
And cur'd thee on her breast.
Me too the kind indulgent maid,
With gen'rous care and timely aid,
Restor'd to mirth and health;
Then join'd to her, O may I prove
By friendship, gratitude, and love,
The Poverty of Wealth.
With gen'rous care and timely aid,
Restor'd to mirth and health;
Then join'd to her, O may I prove
By friendship, gratitude, and love,
The Poverty of Wealth.
| Poems (1791) | |