University of Virginia Library

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130

On the Hon. Mrs. Horner's Travelling for the Recovery of her Health.

Clarissa long has sought, in vain,
Physicians Aid, to ease her Pain;
But now their Aid she seeks no more,
Nor longer will their Drugs endure;
Spite of their Art, her Spirits fail,
Her Cheeks are turn'd a languid Pale;
Yet, tho' her mortal Part's decay'd,
Her nobler Virtue does not fade;
Her Soul, inflexible to Ill,
In Piety advances still:

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131

So Metals lie in chymic Fires;
And, while the grosser Part expires,
The Flames refine the golden Ore,
And make it brighter than before.

She now a warmer Clime explores,
To prove the Air of foreign Shores:
O! may the temp'rate Breezes bring
Salubrious Med'cines on their Wing:
Thou, Phoebus, too, propitious shine;
And (since the Pow'r of Physic's thine)
Send blooming Health on ev'ry Beam,
Dispel her Pains, and chear the Dame.
Else must my melancholy Strain,
In mournful Elegies, complain.
Ev'n now, too well, these Numbers show,
My drooping Fancy's damp'd with Woe:

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Yet, tho' my Verse deserves no Praise,
Let no sour Critic damn my Lays;
Since Ovid's Self but faintly sung,
When only Grief inspir'd his Tongue.