Written at Malvern, June 1799

Ye springs of Malvern, fresh and bright,
Wherein the Spirits of health delight
To dip incessantly their wings,
Rise and sustain the pallid maid
Who steps so slow and seeks your aid;
Bless, and in turn be blest, ye springs!
If I might ask the Powers above
One gift, that gift should be her love.
Hush! thou unworthy creature, hush!
Wouldst thou not rather see her, then,
Without her love, in health again?
I pause; I bow my head, and blush.