Humorism

Beloved,
be of balanced humors all.
Away, O blackest bile of the spleen,
and no more of this melancholic pall,
so spirits sound in harmony again.

Be sanguine,
be of beauty by the blood
(but e'en aghast, fair beauty does not fail).
Enliven, liver, let pure colors flood,
and let no leeching parasite avail.

Be happy,
be of blessed consonance,
and yellow gall begone of fulsomeness.
Ill-tempered tunes become exuberance,
for then no humor is replete or less.

Be balmy,
be of fit phlegmatic store,
and let the lungs be laden with fresh air,
but breathe enough and certainly no more
than thoughtful reason calls the nose to care.

Beloved,
pray the humors balanced be,
as are the spheres, to be in harmony.