ODE
TO
HEALTH
.
BY
MRS.
BROOKE
.
THE
Lesbian
lute
no
more
can
charm
,
Nor
my
once-panting
bosom
warm
;
No
more
I
breathe
the
tender
sigh
;
Nor
when
my
beauteous
swain
appears
,
With
down-cast
look
,
and
starting
tears
,
Confess
the
lustre
of
his
eye
.
With
Freedom
blest
,
at
early
dawn
I
wander
o'er
the
verdant
lawn
,
And
hail
the
sweet
returning
Spring
:
The
fragrant
breeze
,
the
feather'd
choir
,
To
raise
my
vernal
joys
conspire
,
While
Peace
and
Health
their
treasures
bring
.
Come
,
lovely
Health
!
divinest
maid
!
And
lead
me
thro'
the
rural
shade
,
To
thee
the
rural
shades
belong
:
'Tis
thine
to
bless
the
simple
swain
;
And
,
while
he
tries
the
tuneful
strain
,
To
raise
the
raptur'd
Poet's
song
.
Behold
the
patient
village-hind
!
No
cares
disturb
his
tranquil
mind
;
By
thee
,
and
sweet
Contentment
,
blest
:
All
day
he
turns
the
stubborn
plain
,
And
meets
at
eve
his
infant
train
,
While
guiltless
pleasure
fills
his
breast
.
O
!
ever
good
and
bounteous
!
still
By
fountain
fresh
,
or
murmuring
rill
,
Let
me
thy
blissful
presence
find
!
Thee
,
Goddess
,
thee
my
steps
pursue
,
When
,
careless
of
the
morning
dew
,
I
leave
the
lessening
vales
behind
.