University of Virginia Library

A Letter to a young Lady, who sent me a Box of Pills, when she heard I was ill.

If any Thanks from a Sick State are due
To its Restorer and Supporter too,
Then I, dear Madam, am oblig'd to you.
If fair Aurora could obtain of Fate
For her young Lover's Life a longer date;
If the chaste Wishes of the Good and Fair
Can pierce the Clouds and make the Heavens hear;
Then I may hope, as you are kind, to live,
Not by what Heat I have, but what you give.
Now let the Monarchs of the World repine,
Their Guardian Angels have less Pow'r than mine;
Let them bewail their short-liv'd State below,
That all their Pomp to Destiny must bow.
Let the Terrestrial Gods blaspheme, while I
So well upheld, must ask your leave to die.
But tho your Balsom kindly cur'd my Wound,
Tho my whole Body's safe, secure and sound,
Yet let me tell you, You have shot a Dart,
And made me mortal in my better Part;
So would I have it, if you first design'd
The Pills should cure my Body, you my Mind,
And can you not, dear Life, to both be kind?
O yes, I know you will; so you'l approve
Your self one System of Angelick Love:
So the kind Sun never vouchsaf'd a Ray,
But Light and Heat, involv'd, together lay.