To Her Royal Highness The Princess Amelia, At Bath Poem by Nicholas Amhurst

O Princess, form'd with every Grace,
Fair Offspring of our Brunswick Race,
In whom such various Charms are join'd,
Beauty, Good--nature, Strength of Mind,
Griev'd with thy long--continued Ills,
(Which every loyal Briton feels)
To Heav'n my suppliant Voice I raise,
And consecrate these votive Lays.

When late you left your Father's Court,
How mournful was the Day's Resort?
Each sympathetick Face and Heart
In your severe Distress took part,
Crouds sighing stood as you past by,
And Tears gush'd forth from every Eye,
Whilst, as with eager Looks they gaz'd,
Your Fate they mourn'd, your Sweetness prais'd,
And beg'd that Heav'n would ease your Pain,
And send you back in Health again.

Now let thy Springs and mineral Stores
Exert, O Bath, their utmost Powers,
Thy Climate more serenely shine,
Thy Leeches all their Aid combine,
The stubborn Illness to withstand,
And in one Cure rejoice the Land!

To these may Heav'n a Blessing give,
And grant Amelia long to live!
Long may her lovely Virtues shine,
The Boast of her illustrious Line,
To bless some youthful Monarch's Arms,
Well worthy such exalted Charms!

Nor will the Power of Earth and Air
Disdain to hear a Nation's Prayer;
Lo! from on high He nods his Head;
Our Sorrows cease, our Fears are fled;
Amelia lives; the Royal Maid
Already feels caelestial Aid;
Returning Spirits warm her Breast,
No Midnight Pangs disturb her Rest,
Her Eyes their wonted Fires resume,
Fresh on her Cheeks the Roses bloom,
Charm after Charm renews her Face,
And every Morning adds a Grace.

O speed! ye Powers, that happy Day,
When in full Health and Vigour gay,
Returning she shall bless our Sight,
Of hailing Crouds the dear Delight,
While George and Caroline rejoice,
And Biitain lifts to Heav'n her grateful Voice.