Page:The dispensary - a poem in six canto's (sic) (IA b30356775).pdf/106

 Soon as the bright Hygeia was in view, The Venerable Sage her Presence knew. Thus He

Hail, blooming Goddess! Thou propitious Pow'r, Whole Blessings Mortals more than Life implore. With so much Lustre your bright Looks endear, That Cottages are Courts where Those appear. Mankind, as you vouchsafe to Smile or Frown, Finds Ease in Chains, or Anguish in a Crown.

With just Resentments and Contempt you see The foul Dissentions of the Faculty; How your sad sick'ning Art now hangs her Head, And once a Science, is become a Trade. Her Sons ne'er rifle her Mysterious Store, But study Nature less, and Lucre more. Not so when Rome to th' Epidaurian rais'd A Temple, where devoted Incence blaz'd. Oft Father Tyber views the holy Fire, As the learn'd Son is worship't like the Sire: The Sage with Romulus like Honours claim; The Gift of Life and Laws were then the same.

I show'd of old, how vital Currents glide, And the Meanders of their refluent Tide. Then, Willis, why spontaneous Actions here, And whence involuntary Motions there: And how the Spirits by Mechanick Laws, In wild Careers, tumultuous Riots cause. Nor