Calcutta nr. 201
When they mixed my mould
They produced 100 wonders from me
I cannot be better than this
That as they poired me out of the crucible.
What! from his helpless Creature be repaid
Pure Gold for what he lent him dross-allay'd---
Sue for a Debt he never did contract,
And cannot answer--Oh the sorry trade!
When they mixed the earth of my shaping-mould,
They produced an hundred wonders from me;
I cannot be better than I am,
For this is how I was turned out of the crucible.
Since my clay in the mould first kneaded about have THEY
And after commixed with trouble and doubt have THEY,
God wotteth I cannot be better than that which I am,
For me on this wise from the cruzet poured out have THEY.
When in the mould my clay They mixed of old,
With it They mingled evils manifold;
Better than this I am I cannot be,
For as I am They poured me in the mould.