TO
A
LADY
,
A
PATRONESS
OF
THE
MUSES
,
ON
HER
RECOVERY
FROM
SICKNESS
.
WHILE
sickness
,
madam
,
on
your
vitals
prey'd
,
The
sympathetic
sisters
shar'd
your
pain
:
I
mark'd
them
then
in
sable
weeds
array'd
,
In
concert
sad
assume
the
plaintive
strain
.
From
Elly's
The
Residence
of
the
celebrated
Poet
,
Robert
Burns
.
Land
was
heard
the
harp
of
wo
;
A
shepherd
,
once
the
blithest
of
the
throng
,
Did
mirth
inspiring
,
sportive
notes
forego
,
And
steep'd
in
tears
the
melancholy
song
.
From
Irvine's
verdant
banks
,
a
doleful
lay
Re-echo'd
through
the
groves
and
distant
dale
;
Each
vocal
throat
was
fill'd
with
dire
dismay
,
And
heart-felt
sighs
proclaim'd
th'
unwelcome
tale
.
Quick
and
unstable
are
the
turns
of
Fate
;
'Twixt
well
and
wo
are
thin
partitions
rear'd
:
I
mark'd
the
drooping
choir
with
hearts
elate
,
Exulting
o'er
the
ills
so
lately
fear'd
.
When
brooding
on
the
verge
of
deep
despair
,
A
gladd'ning
voice
did
through
the
groves
resound
;
Loud
acclamations
fill'd
the
ambient
air
,
And
joy
and
pleasure
triumph'd
all
around
.
Health
,
blooming
goddess
,
re-assum'd
her
sway
,
And
did
the
tender
,
captive
frame
release
;
All
seem'd
intent
the
tidings
to
convey
,
In
notes
more
grateful
than
the
whisp'ring
breeze
.
Some
greet
a
patroness
,
all
hail
a
friend
,
Whose
bosom
feels
seraphic
virtues
glow
;
Nor
further
,
madam
,
do
your
smiles
extend
;
Vice
dreads
your
frown
,
and
shuns
you
as
a
foe
.
Long
may
you
live
ad'mir'd
by
all
,
and
lov'd
,
The
honour
of
a
long
illustrious
race
;
Your
worth
innate
,
by
Envy's
self
approv'd
,
Which
time
or
sickness
never
can
efface
.