Streams from Helicon Or, Poems On Various Subjects. In Three Parts. By Alexander Pennecuik ... The Second Edition. Enter'd in Stationer's Hall |
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152
On a fair Lady,
Dispencing Medicines in her Lazar House.
O what a sight of wretched Folk is here,And Stink enough for to pollute the Air:
There's Agnes, Jaundice, Cancer, and the Pox,
And ev'ry Plague flew from Pandora's Box.
She's like the Sun, who darts his radiant Beams
On Dunghills, yet not injur'd by their Steams:
She Miracles doth work like Aarons Rod,
(She is not taught by Gallen, but by God.)
Her Hand drys up the long infected Flood;
Sure there's Balsamick Virtue in her Blood:
See how she looks upon a yellow Face,
And prints a Beauty on the swarthy Place.
She stretches forth her healing Hand to save,
And with a touch she disappoints the Grave:
O strange! she bids the dying Lazar live;
She breathes on rotten Bones and they revive.
O cure my wounded Heart, Physician bright,
I see that Healing is thy native Right:
Your Power's too strong for any Maladie,
Shall ev'ry Patient here be cur'd save me;
You gave the Wound your self, O give the Remedie.
| Streams from Helicon | |