39
And no blest balm of consolation doth
Infuse content, alas! but torturing pains
And pangs incessant, unabating, shoot
Their keen inflictions; whilst my burning brain,
Foreboding thoughts and dread contentions rack:
Each slender fibre thrills with horror wild:
Unnumbered filaments, tenacious of
New woe, catch and convey through the whole frame
The dire disorder. Gentle sleep has flown;
Nor dares revisit this assemblage strange
Of pains and black despair. In vain I strive,
By every art prelusive, to regain
His power reluctant, to appease this strife
Of mind and body; and once more to breathe
The soothing quiet of his balmy rest.
In vain I close my eyes, that on my lids
His kindly influence softly may alight,
And fast retain them, till, through all my frame,
His power restoring, re-illume faint life,
And balm all-healing, vigor new create.
But poignant pangs vindictively expel
The soft restorer, and preclude his aid;
While the tired, watching eyes wander about,
In search of objects to relieve the gloom
Of inward anguish: none appear. The lamp's
Pale glimmering light, an emblem, sad and true,
Of life's faint, flickering spark within me, gives:
And from the indurated walls, Despair,
Grim-visaged, beckons, that his dismal port
May the wild glance engage, and penetrate
The dim, recoiling vision's aching sense.
Infuse content, alas! but torturing pains
And pangs incessant, unabating, shoot
Their keen inflictions; whilst my burning brain,
Foreboding thoughts and dread contentions rack:
Each slender fibre thrills with horror wild:
Unnumbered filaments, tenacious of
New woe, catch and convey through the whole frame
The dire disorder. Gentle sleep has flown;
Nor dares revisit this assemblage strange
Of pains and black despair. In vain I strive,
By every art prelusive, to regain
His power reluctant, to appease this strife
Of mind and body; and once more to breathe
The soothing quiet of his balmy rest.
In vain I close my eyes, that on my lids
His kindly influence softly may alight,
And fast retain them, till, through all my frame,
His power restoring, re-illume faint life,
And balm all-healing, vigor new create.
But poignant pangs vindictively expel
The soft restorer, and preclude his aid;
While the tired, watching eyes wander about,
In search of objects to relieve the gloom
Of inward anguish: none appear. The lamp's
Pale glimmering light, an emblem, sad and true,
Of life's faint, flickering spark within me, gives:
And from the indurated walls, Despair,
Grim-visaged, beckons, that his dismal port
May the wild glance engage, and penetrate
The dim, recoiling vision's aching sense.
