TO THE KING, TO CURE THE EVIL.
by Robert Herrick
TO find that tree of life whose fruits did feed
And leaves did heal all sick of human seed :
To find Bethesda and an angel there
Stirring the waters, I am come ; and here,
At last, I find (after my much to do)
The tree, Bethesda and the angel too :
And all in your bless’d hand, which has the powers
Of all those suppling-healing herbs and flowers.
To that soft charm, that spell, that magic bough,
That high enchantment, I betake me now,
And to that hand (the branch of heaven’s fair tree),
I kneel for help ; O ! lay that hand on me,
Adored Cæsar ! and my faith is such
I shall be heal’d if that my king but touch.
The evil is not yours : my sorrow sings,
“Mine is the evil, but the cure the king’s".
Herrick, Robert. Works of Robert Herrick. vol I.
Alfred Pollard, ed.
London, Lawrence & Bullen, 1891. 74.
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