Classic Poem

Huc ades, et tenerae morbos expelle puellae,
Huc ades, intonsâ Phaebe superbe comâ, &c.
Tibulli Carmina , lib. IV . carm. iv
Come , healing god! Apollo, come and aid,
Moved by the tears of love, my tender maid!
No more let sickness dim those radiant eyes
Which never know to cheat or to disguise.
If e'er my verse has pleased thy listening ear,
Oh, now be friendly, now propitious hear!
Bring every virtuous herb, each root and flower
Of cooling juice and salutary power.
Light is the task: to touch a hand so fair,
Divine physician, will repay thy care.
My tears are fled; the god my suit approves;
He can't be wretched who sincerely loves.
Protecting Heaven, with more than common care,
Smiles on his hopes, and guards him from despair.
Raise from the pillow, raise thy languid head,
Come forth, my love, and quit thy sickly bed!
Come forth, my love! for thee the balmy Spring
Breathes every sweet; for thee the zephyrs bring
Their healing gales; for thee the graces lead
The smiling hours, and paint the flowery mead.
As nature, drooping long beneath the reign
Of dreary winter, now revives again,
Calls all her beauties out, and charms us more
From what we suffered in their loss before;
So from thy tedious illness shalt thou rise
More sweetly fair; and in those languid eyes
And faded cheeks, returning health shall place
A fresher bloom, and more attractive grace.
Then shall my bounding heart forget its woe,
And think it never more a pain can know;
Then shall my Muse thy charms more gaily sing
And hail thee as the nightingale the Spring.
Huc ades, et tenerae morbos expelle puellae,
Huc ades, intonsâ Phaebe superbe comâ, &c.
Tibulli Carmina , lib. IV . carm. iv

Come , healing god! Apollo, come and aid,
Moved by the tears of love, my tender maid!
No more let sickness dim those radiant eyes
Which never know to cheat or to disguise.
If e'er my verse has pleased thy listening ear,
Oh, now be friendly, now propitious hear!
Bring every virtuous herb, each root and flower
Of cooling juice and salutary power.
Light is the task: to touch a hand so fair,
Divine physician, will repay thy care.
My tears are fled; the god my suit approves;
He can't be wretched who sincerely loves.
Protecting Heaven, with more than common care,
Smiles on his hopes, and guards him from despair.
Raise from the pillow, raise thy languid head,
Come forth, my love, and quit thy sickly bed!
Come forth, my love! for thee the balmy Spring
Breathes every sweet; for thee the zephyrs bring
Their healing gales; for thee the graces lead
The smiling hours, and paint the flowery mead.
As nature, drooping long beneath the reign
Of dreary winter, now revives again,
Calls all her beauties out, and charms us more
From what we suffered in their loss before;
So from thy tedious illness shalt thou rise
More sweetly fair; and in those languid eyes
And faded cheeks, returning health shall place
A fresher bloom, and more attractive grace.
Then shall my bounding heart forget its woe,
And think it never more a pain can know;
Then shall my Muse thy charms more gaily sing
And hail thee as the nightingale the Spring.