Classic Poem

When fev'rish Poisons seiz'd my tainted Blood,
And chill and languid mov'd the vital Flood,
From the sad Breast, o'erwhelm'd with Fears and Woes,
To Heav'n my feeble Sighs for Rescue rose.
My God , I cry'd, oh save! all pow'rful Friend !
From the dark Grave my threaten'd Life defend.
In Manhood's Prime, my Noon of useful Days,
Spare me, mild Parent! for thy Service raise.
Yet unprepar'd — defit'd with conscious Stains,
A Respite deign — to purge the dread Remains —
He, pitying Goodness! my Distress survey'd,
Heard the griev'd Pray'r, and quick Relief convey'd.
Sent the kind Friend to aid my helpless Hour,
And gave to Art her salutary Pow'r.
He still'd my Anguish, He my Plaint suppress'd,
And seal'd my sleepless Eyes in balmy Rest:
Bid rosy Health a gentle Cure apply,
Flush my wan Cheek, and beam my lifeless Eye:
Bid Strength mature my fault'ring Limbs sustain,
And rais'd me from the Bed of Griefs and Pain.

Am I restor'd, kind Heaven! from dreaded Woes
To Health, to vig'rous Strength, to fresh Repose?
O what Returns are just, his grateful Dues,
Who from the Tomb my wasted Form renews!
But where is She ? — — ah where! the lov'd, the kind!
Long to my Heart by closest Ties conjoin'd,
Who us'd my Cares to sooth, my Joys to raise,
Soft, sweet Companion of my pleasing Days?
Who but so late, with fondest Fears possest,
My sick'ning Side with watchful Tendance press'd,
Kiss'd my pale Lips, my Hand desponding wrung,
And o'er my Clay-cold Breast impassion'd hung.
Alas! how soon in Childbed's tort'rous Throws
My suffering Dear has left her Life and Woes!
I heard, unhappy! her severe Distress,
Grief, which no Pray'rs, no Succours could redress:
Alone, encircled with the Midnight Gloom,
Heard the faint Sigh, that seal'd her hasty Doom.
Too sudden lost, her piteous Plight to tell,
To print one Kiss, or breathe one short Farewel.
From tend'rest Friends, from weeping Orphans torn,
From Widow'd me — me! destin'd long to mourn.
Thy matchless Love my restless Heart endears,
Thy fix'd Idea lives for future Years;
Oft will the Hour return of mental Smart,
The Thought to cut my fond-remembring Heart;
When the dear Pledges of our Loves I view,
And from their infant Charms can picture you. —
Ah! quite bereft — but let my Murmurs rest,
Heav'n dooms, — and all his Will ordains is best;
Best, tho' severe the Lot — but oh! my Heart
Feels the keen Pang, the Throb on Nature's part —
Adieu, all lovely! grac'd with Virtues dear,
Whate'er cou'd heave the Sigh, or swell the Tear:
Discreet as Age, while gay in sprightly Youth,
A Look all Softness, with a Heart all Truth.
Adieu — yet not eternal our Remove;
Soon we in happier Realms shall meet and love .
With no mixt Ills its Fervour to alloy,
Pure shall our Passion glow, nor pall our Joy.
For the soft View, that Scene of blissful Rest,
Tune, heav'nly Pow'r , this inharmonious Breast!
Wean me from Earth, from its Delusions save,
And point my Hopes to Joys beyond the Grave.
Teach me the Life, so kindly spar'd, to use —
In Vice not wasted, not in Sloth to lose.
Rul'd by thy Laws, to all thy Will resign'd,
And active for the Good of Human Kind;
Then — pleas'd, release me from this lonesome Cell
With my mourn'd Saint , my dear lost Bliss , to dwell.