Classic Poem

E LIZA , thou whose sympathetick heart,
To sacred Friendship's warm emotions true,
Bids ev'ry fond idea rise to view,
With which my bosom beats, far, far apart!
What numbers needs there, or what tuneful art,
To tell the anxious throbbings of my Soul,
While busy Fancy to my tortur'd Mind,
Shew'd thy pale form to fell Disease consign'd,
Patient, tho' sad beneath his dire controul?
But prais'd be HE , the Father of Mankind,
Who bids the tides of Health returning roll:
And see, bright Hope, her gay attendant, nigh,
Who to those Realms directs the grateful eye,
Where Pain and Sorrow cease, and every thought is Joy.