Classic Poem

As when the god of light awhile retires,
And nightly shades conceal his sacred fires,
The drooping world laments that he's away,
And nature mourns the absence of the day;
But when re-usher'd by approaching morn,
And dazzling beams his glorious face adorn,
The universe in shining pomp appears,
And ev'ry face a mark of gladness wears;
So, when my Lesbia was with pain opprest,
And raging fevers rack'd her gentle breast,
With pity fill'd for the dear maid I love,
Her torments double to my soul did prove.
My Lesbia felt no pain, endur'd no smart
But what with mightier force opprest my bleeding heart.
But when relenting Fate had heard my pray'r,
And look'd with pity on the tortur'd fair;
When it had eas'd her of her racking pain,
And brought her to her pristine health again,
Witness, ye gods, what joys inspir'd my breast,
With what excess of transport was I blest.
My grief, which nothing could before compare,
Was equall'd by the joy my soul did share
In the recovery of my charming fair.
Then Oh, ye pow'rs, would ye propitious prove
To chaste desires, and to constant love,
Bless her with lasting health whom I adore,
And make her mine, that I may ask no more.