University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
  

expand sectionI. 
collapse sectionIII. 
  
  
PRAYER TO HEALTH:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


24

PRAYER TO HEALTH:

WRITTEN WHILE SEVERAL OF THE AUTHOR'S FRIENDS WERE SUFFERING FROM SICKNESS.

Soft'ner of every ill below,
And crown of every good we know;
Thou only pure and sterling wealth,
Blessing of blessings—roseate Health!
At thy approach each drooping flower
Shall spring more fresh than from the shower;
The Graces on thy steps attend,
And all the Loves before thee bend
As from thy breathings they inhale
More than Arabia's spicy gale:
All Nature, while it owns thy sway,
To Thee shall willing homage pay;
The Sun himself more bright shall shine,
The lustre his, the rapture thine!
Come then, fair daughter of the sky,
The sun-beams playing in thine eye,
Come on the pinions of the breeze,
And chase away the fiend Disease,
And hover round the cheerless bed
Where the stern tyrant bends the head;

25

Haste to the couch where Charlotte lies

An amiable and highly accomplished young lady, who died soon after this poem was written. A tender tribute to her memory, by her father, will be found amongst the original poetic contributions.

,

Or arm the father ere she dies;
Arm him to bear the death-blow giv'n,
The pang that lifts his child to heaven.
And where yon mourning matron strays,
While at her feet a cherub plays,
Fling from the sphere a softer air,
And sooth a tender mother's care;
Revisit pale Sibylla's cheek

The Author's beloved and ingenious relative, whose happy poetical powers have given an attraction to his former publications, and will be found to adorn part of the present volume under her accustomed signature—Unaltered in worth and talents, but, alas! still the victim of sickness.

,

Where mirth, like morn-beams, used to break:
And Genius shall resume his reign,
And Fancy pour her richest strain.
Then wave thy wand o'er Harriet's brow

The wife of William Moody, Esq. of Beau-Desert Park, near Henly in Arden. A woman of uncommon felicity of expression, and of a most generous heart. More than one effusion to her memory will be seen in the course of this division of Harvest Home.

,

And Sense shall charm, and Wit shall flow.
And give the Friend with wisdom fraught

Rev. Dr. Mavor, then suffering heavily; but now happily restored to his Friends and the Public, both of whom know how to appreciate the qualities of his head and heart.


The power to use his stores of thought;
Stores to enrich the rising age,
Diffus'd thro' many a moral page.
Nor, ah! to that time-honour'd Seer

Rev. Mr. Graves; of whose intellectual energy at the age of ninety-two , an extraordinary specimen will be given in the course of this volume, amongst the poetical republications.


Deny thy smile his age to cheer.
Age such as his shall still be gay,
If thou but deign to gild his way:
Sweet Shenstone's friend then still shall be
Blithe as his own Euphrosyne;
And, number'd 'midst the tuneful throng,
Shall still repay thee with his song.
And he, whose cup of joy ran o'er

Rev. G. Glasse, who, in describing the misery which befel his family from his house having fallen down at Hanwell, and many other severe misfortunes that preceded the yet greater calamity mentioned in these Verses, observed—“All these sorrows have been heaped upon me, in order, no doubt, to prune the over-luxuriance of prosperity, that had known but little interruption; in order, I trust, to make me wiser and better—to harrow up the soul, as Ogden beautifully has it, in order to make it capable of producing the seeds of virtue.”


With Fortune's and thy richer store;
While Nature, Sense, and Beauty smil'd,
In the soft forms of wife and child:

26

But ah! who now on distant shores
At once a child and wife deplores,
Hides from himself, and vainly tries
To lose swift Mem'ry as he flies!
Bereaved man! O sooth his woe,
For Health can still a balm bestow;
Can give the struggling mind relief,
Or strength to bear the sharpest grief;
Can the just breaking heart sustain,
And bid it beat to hope again;
Can urge the sinking soul to prove
The force of piety and love.
Nor yet to yonder laurell'd Sage,
The far-fam'd Nestor of the age

Rev. Mr. Potter; a notice of whose recent death, and a tribute to whose memory, will be seen, in the beginning of the Poem of “Sympathy,” in close of the Harvest-Home.

,

Refuse thy salutary aid;
But wing thy way to Lowestoff's shade,
Where still the Grecian Muse is seen
In classic robes, and awful mien;
And woos the Zephyrs, as they rise
From azure waves and salient skies.
Then, if a boon remains with thee,
Deign to bestow that boon on me!
The frame which many a shock has worn,
The heart which many a pang has borne,
The nerves which Sickness oft has struck,
And Sorrow wrung, and Envy shook:
And foul Ingratitude, and Care,
Have bow'd to earth,—do thou repair;
O mitigate each suppliant's pain,
Nor let the Poet's prayer be vain!
 

Now in his ninety-third year.