Verses Written in Sickness. December, 1804. Mary Tighe (née Blachford) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Tighe, Mary, 1772-1810. Psyche, With Other Poems. London Printed for LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW 1811 pp. 258-261. 314p.

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Verses Written in Sickness . December , 1804. O THOU , whom Folly's votaries slight , Domestic Love ! assuasive power ! Life's ruby gem , which sheds its light Through age and sorrow's darkest hour , Sweeter than Pleasure's syren lay , Brighter than Passion's , fevered dream ! Still round my pillow soothing stay , Still spread thy kindly lambent beam . Alas ! for him whose youth has bowed Beneath the oppressive hand of pain ; Whose claim to pity disallowed Bids him the unheeded groan restrain . Alas ! for him who droops like me , Who mourns life's faded vigour flown , But finds no soothing sympathy , No tender cares his loss atone . For him no wakeful eye of love Resists the slumbers health would shed , With kind assistance prompt to move , And gently prop the aching head : With delicate attention paid In hope to minister relief , He sees no sacrifices made ; He sees no Mother's anxious grief ! But I , poor sufferer , doomed in vain To woo the health which Heaven denied , Though nights of horror , days of pain The baffled opiate's force deride , Yet well I know , and grateful feel , How much can lenient kindness do , From anguish half its darts to steal , And faded hope's sick smile renew . Oh ! how consoling is the eye Of the dear friend that shares our woes ! Oh ! what relief those cares supply , Which watchful , active love bestows ! And these are mine ! — Shall I then dare To murmur at so mild a lot ? Nor dwell on comforts still my share With thankful and contented thought ! Though destined to the couch of pain , Though torn from pleasures once too dear , Around that couch shall still remain The love that every pain can cheer . And o'er that couch , in fondness bent , My languid glance shall grateful meet The eye of love benevolent , The tender smile , the tear most sweet . And still for me affection's hand Shall o'er that couch her roses shed And woo from ease her poppied band , To twine around this throbbing head . O pitying Heaven ! these comforts spare , Though age untimely chill gay hope ; May Love still crown the sufferer's prayer , And gently smooth life's downward slope !