But since in vain I search around —
Since Health is nowhere to be found,
To Cheerfulness I bend the knee,
The Goddess next of kin to thee!
And she, so soft, thy form shall wear,
Hang round my bed, and o'er my chair,
That Sickness shall let minutes pass,
Nor see one sand forsake the glass.
Though ever fainting as she moves,
And drooping e'en in fragrant groves;
Whose lifeless frame no art can cheer,
Nor all the changes of the year;
Nor song, nor pipe, can bid her raise
One cheering thought of better days; —
Nor all the flow'rets Nature spreads
On her green lap in leafy beds,
Can o'er her cheek prolong the smile,
Though balmy zephyrs play the while,
Till touch'd by thee, thou goddess dear!
Who'st dried this eye of many a tear.
And oft, when sickness by my side
Has every other joy denied,
With Hope or Fancy in thy train
Thou sooth'd, or seem'd to soothe my pain,
And banish'd every thought of sorrow
By gaily pointing to to-morrow.
Fancy would weave a wreath of flowers,
And dress the nimble-footed hours,
That henceforth ever more should go
"Upon the light fantastic toe;"
Not heavily, as beating time
To every plaintive note of mine;
For Hope, with smiles that might deceive
A heart less willing to believe,
Would wave her hand, and pointing, say,
Health keeps for thee yon coming day.