Read it through once

Thou wilt object--Why have I not ere this Sought out the sage himself, the Nazarene Who wrought this cure, inquiring at the source, Conferring with the frankness that befits? Alas! it grieveth me, the learned leech Perished in a tumult many years ago, Accused,--our learning’s fate,--of wizardry, Rebellion, to the setting up a rule {250} And creed prodigious as described to me. His death, which happened when the earthquake fell (Prefiguring, as soon appeared, the loss To occult learning in our lord the sage Who lived there in the pyramid alone), Was wrought by the mad people--that’s their wont! On vain recourse, as I conjecture it, To his tried virtue, for miraculous help-- How could he stop the earthquake? That’s their way! The other imputations must be lies: {260} But take one, though I loath to give it thee, In mere respect for any good man’s fame. (And after all, our patient Lazarus Is stark mad; should we count on what he says? Perhaps not: though in writing to a leech ‘Tis well to keep back nothing of a case.) This man so cured regards the curer, then, As--God forgive me! who but God himself, Creator and sustainer of the world, That came and dwelt in flesh on it a while! {270} --‘Sayeth that such an one was born and lived, Taught, healed the sick, broke bread at his own house, Then died, with Lazarus by, for aught I know, And yet was. . .what I said nor choose repeat, And must have so avouched himself, in fact, In hearing of this very Lazarus Who saith--but why all this of what he saith? Why write of trivial matters, things of price Calling at every moment for remark? I noticed on the margin of a pool {280} Blue-flowering borage, the Aleppo sort, Aboundeth, very nitrous. It is strange!