University of Virginia Library


185

VIII. TO AFFLICTION.

(Written during a dangerous Illness.)

O thou! with wakening step and withering eye,
And chalice drugg'd with wormwood to the brim,
Who com'st to probe the nerve and rack the limb,
And wring from bruised hearts the bursting sigh,—
From thee in vain affrighted mortals fly!
Thou breath'st upon them, and their senses swim
In giddy horror—while thy comrades grim,
Anguish and Dread, their snaky scourges ply.
Affliction! though I fear and hate thy hand,
And fain would shun the bitter cup thou bear'st,
Physician harsh! thy merits too I own;
For thou dispell'st illusions that withstand
Milder coercion,—and the roots uptear'st
Of cancerous ills that have the heart o'ergrown.