Alack! the soul that was up so high Dropped down into pitiful misery; The lofty courage was stricken low, The steady triumph stumbled in woe, And the world-joy was hidden in the dust, Even as all such shall be and must. He whose life in the senses centreth Is already in the shades of death. The joys, called great, of this under-state Burn up the bosom early and late; And their shining is altogether vain, For it bringeth anguish and trouble and pain, The torch that flames for men to see And wasteth to ashes inwardly Is verily but an imaging Of man's own life, the piteous thing. The whole is brittleness and mishap: We sit and dally in Fortune's lap Till tears break in our smiles betwixt, And the shallow honey-draught be mix'd With sorrow's wormwood fathom-deep. Oh! rest not therefore, man, nor sleep: In the blossoming of thy flower-crown A sword is raised to smite thee down. It was thus with Earl Henry, upon whom for his pride God sent a leprosy, as He did upon Job. But he did not bear his affliction as did Job. Its duteousness his heart forgot; His pride waxed hard, and kept its place, But the glory departed from his face, And that which was his strength, grew weak. The hand that smote him on the cheek Was all too heavy. It was night, Now, and his sun withdrew its light. To the pride of his uplifted thought Much woe the weary knowledge brought That the pleasant way his feet did wend Was all passed o'er and had an end. The day wherein his years had begun Went in his mouth with a malison. As the ill grew stronger and more strong,-- There was but hope bore him along; Even yet to hope he was full fain That gold might help him back again Thither whence God had cast him out. Ah! weak to strive and little stout 'Gainst Heaven the strength that he possessed. North and south and east and west, Far and wide from every side, Mediciners well proved and tried Came to him at the voice of his woe; But, mused and pondered they ever so, They could but say, for all their care, That he must be content to bear The burthen of the anger of God; For him there was no other road. Already was his heart nigh down When yet to him one chance was shown; For in Salerno dwelt, folk said, A leach who still might lend him aid, Albeit unto his body's cure, All such had been as nought before. Earl Henry visits the leach in Salerno whom he implores to tell him the means by which he may be healed.