Oh that, weighed, were my vexation, and, my engulfing ruin - into the balances, they would lift up all at once!

Is there, in my tongue, perversity? Or can, my sense, not discern, engulfing ruin?

For ruin, there is contempt, in the thought of the man at ease, - ready, for such as are of faltering foot!

He hath ruined me on every side, and I am gone, and he hath taken away - like a tree - my hope;

They brake up my path, - My engulfing ruin, they helped forward, unaided;

Only, against a heap of ruins, will one not thrust a hand! Surely, when one is in calamity - for that very reason, is there an outcry for help.