That follows pale sickness in her train?
With bitterest dregs she fills her cup,
And makes her victims drink them up:
Binds them to thorny pillows down,
And frightens sleep with her stern frown;
Or if perchance the eyelids close,
She gives her victim no repose,
But hurries round and madly screams,
And conjures up her wildest dreams,
Binds reason in her iron chains,
To fancy gives her longest reins,
And whips and spurs it, through the brain,
Till startling nature wakes again.
She flings the rose from beauty's cheek,
And on it paints her hectic streak;
Takes rosy childhood from his play,
And gives grim death the beauteous prey;
For ever round her footsteps steal
To pick for him his glutton meal;
And still she keeps her promise good.

To pamper him with hourly food;
But yet they stand there, side by side,
Death and the grave, unsatisfied.
For should a million hourly die,
Twould not their appetites supply.
But what seem curses to our eyes
Are nought but blessings in disguise;
And sickness is in mercy given
To wean the soul from earth to heaven;