Miscellaneous poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Nymph, who at the earliest dawn
Bucklest blythe thy buskins on;
Who hang'st upon the milkmaid's pail,
The mower's scythe, the thresher's flail;
Who lov'st thy votaries to lead
O'er misty hill, through dewy mead,
Ere yet Aurora's saffron vest
Throws a light blush along the east;
Whose ruddy cheek, and laughing eye,
Mak'st all around thee sing with joy;
That from the cottage to the throne
We court thy smile, and fear thy frown—
Thee I invoke! Hygeia, thee!
Where'er thou wand'rest, blythe and free,
Hither in haste thy steps direct,
Each salutary plant collect,

And scatter them around the bed,
Where Berna rests her aching head
Each cooling herb, that may restrain
The fever boiling in each vein;
Thy poppies bring, her eyelids steep,
And seal them in refreshing sleep.
Oh Nymph! wherever thou may'st dwell,
On mountain's brow, in grot or cell,
Propitious hear thy suppliant's pray'r;
Let Berna's safety be thy care;
Repel, alleviate every pain,
And make her all thy own again.

So when fair Flora, queen of flow'rs,
Comes leading on May's rosy hours,
Each sweet that decorates her train,
I'll pluck to grace thy sacred fane.
An altar to thy name I'll raise;
The grateful muse shall hymn thy praise:
Yes, ever grateful will I be,
Though thou should'st take thy flight from me.