The Wicked Who Would Me Harm

The wicked who would do me harm
May he take the [throat] disease,
Globularly, spirally, circularly,
Fluxy, pellety, horny-grim.
Be it harder than the stone.
Be it blacker than the coal.
Be it swifter than the duck.
Be it heavier than the lead.

Be it fiercer, fiercer, sharper, harsher, more malignant.
Than the hard, wound-quivering holly.
Be it sourer than the sained, lustrous, bitter, salt salt,
Seven seven times.

Oscillating thither.
Undulating hither.
Staggering downwards,
Floundering upwards,
Drivelling outwards,
Snivelling inwards,
Oft hurrying out,
Seldom coming in.

A wisp the portion of each hand,
A foot in the base of each pillar,
A leg the prop of each jamb,
A flux driving and dragging him.

A dysentery of blood from heart, from form, from bones,
From the liver, from the lobe, from the lungs.
And a searching of veins, of throat, and of kidneys.
To my contemners and traducers.

In name of the God of might.
Who warded from me every evil,
And who shielded me in strength,
From the net of my breakers
And destroyers.