Original Poems | ||
58
A PRAYER,
For a young Lady sick.
I
Fitter for the Bridal-Bed,Than the cold and silent Grave,
Let Death take thousands in her stead,
But, O You Gods! Florinda save.
II
Hear Mankind's united Prayers,Grant their Wishes, dry their Tears,
Send balmy Health to heal her Pain,
And raise her up, again to reign!
Original Poems | ||