Calcutta nr. 307
How long of thy oppression oh vault of heaven
For God’s sake strike (me) more gently
In the end I am burnt (&) every moment (is) yours also
On the burnt one you scatter a worn subsistence.
How long wilt thou thus oppress me, sphere of the skies?
For God's sake, do thou thy smiting on gentler wise!
I 'm all afire for affliction and still thy hand
My burning bosom with salt each moment plies.