Ode To Hygeia Poem by Anne MacVicar Grant

DAUGHTER of Exercise and calm Content,
By Temperance nourish'd in the shady vale,
Where Dian's nymphs resort with bows unbent,
To taste the freshness of the morning gale;
Divine HYGEIA , turn thy steps again,
Nor let the plaintive Muse implore in vain!
Oh! coy disdainful maid, in native charms array'd,
Beyond the needless pageantry of art,
Time was, thy radiant smile could every care beguile,
And shed sweet influence o'er my drooping heart.
Why, goddess, have thy lovely eyes
Their azure beams withdrawn?
Dost thou my artless prayer despise?
When oft at morning dawn
I lift pure hands from guilt and interest free,
And humbly seek for friendship, peace, and thee!
Return, inconstant fair, while through the soften'd air
Mild zephyrs waft the balmy breath of spring,
And budding woods with early music ring.
Ah! what avails their bloom, or all the soft perfume
Yon dewy violet banks exhale to me,
While through the birchen grove, with lingering steps I rove,
And vainly trace thy wanted haunts for thee?
Far from the crowd's tumultuous noise
Amid thy lov'd retreats I stray,
Averse from fashion's giddy joys,
Which oft bedim thy cheering ray.
Simplicity, presiding at my board,
With wholesome herbs supplies my temp'rate meal,
My constant drink yon limpid streams afford,
Whose liquid murmurs lull th' adjacent vale;
And oft at noon, reclin'd at rural ease,
I catch thy spirit from the mountain breeze.
In yonder ambient wave my faded form I lave,
Where oft thy votaries bless thy healing power;
Yet in my languid mien no ray of thine is seen,
But stern disease, remorseless, haunts my bower.
Ah! what avail my cares, or all the ardent pray'rs
My trembling lips have offer'd at thy shrine,
Whilst thou, capricious power, dost all thy blessings shower
On others, heedless of thy gifts divine?
But wherefore shun the gentle train
Who court thee on the rural plain,
And love thy fav'rite shades;
Whose hearts, with tenderest feelings warm,
Enjoy fair nature's every charm,
While splendour's pageant fades?
Yet ah! the tender heart with keen peculiar smart
Shrinks trembling back when care or pain assail,
Even as the sweetest flow'rs, that bloom in yonder bowers,
Are soonest blighted by the eastern gale.
Though fancy's vivid beams illume their morning dreams,
And sportive loves the roseate wreath entwine,
Yet doom'd to live all o'er, and smart at every pore,
At sorrow's frown thy blessings they resign:
Though all my vows are made in vain,
And thou relentless fly the plain,
So long endear'd by thee:
While chilling tremors, feverish pains,
Alternate spread through all my veins,
And pleasure dies to me.
Yet while in Clutha's winding vale,
Light floating on the western gale,
Thy spirit cheers my friend,
To thee shall grateful songs arise,
To thee the rural sacrifice
In fragrant fumes ascend.
And where Edina's turrets rise,
Though smoky wreaths obscure the skies,
And vapours taint the air,
Thy soft ambrosial pinions spread
O'er lov'd ASTERIA'S drooping head,
And soothe the languid fair.
And see, to woo thee down, she quits the noisy town,
In quest of thee she seeks the breezy shore;
On Ocean's stormy breast, thou oft art found to rest,
His green-hair'd nymphs thy wat'ry haunts explore.
And when with trembling hope she laves,
Oh! shed thy influence o'er the waves,
Her bloom restore, her health renew;
There let her hail thy form divine,
Emerging from the foamy brine,
Like VENUS on the dazzled view!