The Asthmatic Man To The Satan That Binds Him

Satan, avaunt!         Nay, take thine hour,     Thou canst not daunt,         Thou hast no power;     Be welcome to thy nest,     Though it be in my breast.     Burrow amain;         Dig like a mole;     Fill every vein         With half-burnt coal;     Puff the keen dust about,     And all to choke me out.     Fill music's ways         With creaking cries,     That no loud praise         May climb the skies;     And on my labouring chest     Lay mountains of unrest.     My slumber steep         In dreams of haste,     That only sleep,         No rest, I taste--     With stiflings, rimes of rote,     And fingers on my throat.     Satan, thy might         I do defy;     Live core of night         I patient lie:     A wind comes up the gray     Will blow thee clean away.     Christ's angel, Death,         All radiant white,     With one cold breath         Will scare thee quite,     And give my lungs an air     As fresh as answered prayer.     So, Satan, do         Thy worst with me     Until the True         Shall set me free,     And end what he began,     By making me a man.