When Melancholy Drowns My Interests
When melancholy drowns my interests,
all seem lost; when black bile's ooze then molests,
I travel through the valley of this death,
lacking life, hope—even desire for breath!
So, myself from blackness I amputate,
spurn whether to self-murder (and brave this fate?);
and lay aside despair and misery,
to fall in love once more with Poetry.
For two loves I have, God and the Muses:
one gives, the other neither refuses.
Before long, the Parnassus heals me in time;
and I grow strong before the end of this rhyme!
For mightier than despair is the Lord,
and the poet whose pen conquers the sword.
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