The man confirm’d long triumphs o’er disease.
But the full ocean ebbs: There is a point,
By nature fix’d, whence life must downwards tend. 530
For still the beating tide consolidates
The stubborn vessels, more reluctant still,
To the weak throbbings of th’ enfeebled heart.
This languishing, these strengthning by degrees
To hard unyielding unelastic bone, 535
Thro’ tedious channels the congealing flood
Crawls lazily, and hardly wanders on;