Find me a surgeon who shall cure a gash so made.
Where wound exists, the flies will ever flock amain,
To hide its hideousness from sight, and lull the pain,
Those flies the symbols are of man’s vain, baseless thoughts;
The wound they cover over’s ignorance high-wrought.75
’Tis only when the teacher salve applies with skill,
The throes are quieted that shoot across man’s will.
He then imagines that his wound is healing fast.
Effect this is of cunning used, that salve to cast.
O man, whose back is galled, accept his salve with thanks.