No remedy was found in change of food: New arts availed not; physic was all vain, Though learned of Chiron, son of Phillyra, Or of Melampus, Amythaon's child. Bursting from Stygian gloom to light of suns, Raged the pale fury, and before her drove Disease and Dread, and ever day by day Surged loftier, raising her insatiate head. Streams and dry banks and hills that seem to drowse Echoes the bleat of sheep, the frequent groans Of oxen; and within the very stalls The plague brought death to multitudes, and heaped The bodies rotting in corruption foul, Until men learned to cover them with earth, Burying them deep. For no use was the hide, Nor could the stench be washed out of the flesh Or overcome by roasting, nor the fleece Be shorn, all eaten through with putrid filth. And if it were tried, the web set up would break In pieces at a touch; and, worse than this, Should any seek to don such tainted cloth, The burning pustules and foul sweat ran over His fetid limbs, and, biding for no time, The accursed fire consumed his stricken joints. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BEAST OF BURDEN by MARIANNE MOORE VILLAGE IN LATE SUMMER by CARL SANDBURG |