Too fast imbibes th’ attenuated lymph
Which, by the surface, from the blood exhales.
The lungs grow rigid, and with toil essay 170
Their flexible vibrations; or inflam’d,
Their tender ever-moving structure thaws.
Spoil’d of its limpid vehicle, the blood
A mass of lees remains, a drossy tide
That slow as Lethe wanders thro’ the veins, 175
Unactive in the services of life,
Unfit to lead its pitchy current thro’