APOSTROPHE TO HEALTH.

Hygeia! most blest of the powers That tenant the mansions divine, May I pass in thy presence the hours That remain, ere in death I recline! Dwell with me, benevolent charm! Without the attendance of health Not the smiles of affection can warm, And dull are the splendors of wealth. The pageant of empire is stale That lifts men like gods o’er their race, And the heart’s thrilling impulses fail When Love beckons on to the chase. Whate’er in itself joy can give, Or that springs from sweet respite of pain, That mortals or gods can receive, Blest Hygeia! is found in thy train! Thy smile kindles up the fresh spring, The glad, verdant bloom of the soul; Thee absent, our pleasures take wing, And Sorrow usurps her control.