Classic Poem

Nor were its Wishes long unheard,
Fate soon at its desire appear'd,
And strait for an Assault prepar'd.
A suddain and a swift Disease
First on thy Heart Life's chiefest Fort does seize,
And then on all the Suburb-vitals preys:
Next it corrupts thy tainted Blood,
And scatters Poyson thro' its purple Flood.
Sharp Aches in thick Troops it sends,
And Pain, which like a Rack the Nerves extends.
Anguish through every Member flies,
And all those inward Gemonies
Whereby frail Flesh in Torture dies.
All the staid Glories of thy Face,
Where sprightly Youth lay checkt with manly Grace,
Are now impair'd,
And quite by the rude hand of Sickness mar'd.
Thy Body where due Symmetry
In just proportions once did lie,
Now hardly could be known,
Its very Figure out of Fashion grown;
And should thy Soul to its old Seat return,
And Life once more adjourn,
'Twould stand amaz'd to see its alter'd Frame,
And doubt (almost) whether its own Carcass were the same.