Page:Village pestilence.pdf/8

8 Lead back the mind through time’s encumber'd maze

To Egypt’s mourning for her fond first-born,

Or Rama’s wailing for her children slain.

The plague went on—Conjecture ceas’d, for now

All theories seem’d vain—men only fear'd,

Nor knew what 'twas they dreaded! 'Twas fear of fear.

The grave physician, whose best feelings fell

A sacrifice since, before the shrine

Of motley ills, who fatten’d on disease,

And mark’d with apathetic unconcern

The thousand thousand various forms of pain,

That rack'd the carcase of humanity,

Stood here without one scientific phrase,

Observ'd the ravage of the strange unknown,

Bluntly confess’d his ignorance and awe,

And cross’d his arms, and said "’Tis death! ’tis death!!"