Work-Book

 1   T-I|            couldn’t compass all my ills in words,~the content is
 2   T-I|          throat,~or you’d think my ills less alien to you now,~and
 3 T-III|           me:~my spirit matched my ills: my body borrowed~strength
 4 T-III|            glad that so many of my ills end with my death.~This
 5 T-III|            I’d rather not live,~my ills not eased by any length
 6 T-III|        seek that’s missing from my ills?~A barbarous land, the unfriendly
 7 T-III|        hand, in such adversity.~My ills have weakened my talent,
 8  T-IV|         the goddesses, who ease my ills,~friends of my anxious flight,
 9  T-IV|        wintry snowflakes,~than the ills I endured, driven through
10  T-IV|         virtue’s paved with public ills.~Tiphys the helmsman’s art,
11  T-IV|         and deepened with time.~My ills were not so well known to
12  T-IV|     exhausted beforehand by time’s ills.~The new wrestler, on the
13  T-IV|         little time left for these ills.~I’ve neither the strength
14  T-IV|      absorbed in contemplating its ills, endlessly.~The sight of
15   T-V|          the Field of Mars,~so the ills I’ve suffered without cure,
16   T-V|            s a brief summary of my ills,~and whoever lives on having
17   T-V|          what other help for these ills should I try to find?~If
18   T-V|            that you blushed at our ills.~Endure, and be true: you’
19   T-V| extinguished by long sufferance of ills,~and nothing of my former
20  ExII|         might be able to lessen my ills….?)~I, who, though admittedly
21  ExII|          might be free of my usual ills.~But dreams that imitate
22  ExII|         other~than, by exchange of ills, to be free to leave this
23  ExII|        brought help and hope to my ills. As Philoctetes~the Poeantian
24  ExII|     continual suffering.~And if my ills had been spread over as
25  ExII|            in case they thought my ills a mere conceit.~As though
26  ExII|           haven’t contracted these ills by excess drinking:~you
27   ExI|            re the more moved by my ills, ~learned friend, due to
28   ExI|         you ought,~and tell me the ills I endure are less than I
29 ExIII|          should I write of but the ills of this bitter region,~and
30  ExIV|         let there be an end ~to my ills, the anger of the sacred
31  ExIV|         who ease the anxiety of my ills. ~The Danube, all too close,
32  IBIS|          mouth.~Body never free of ills, mind of grievous sickness,~
33  IBIS|            have known the worst of ills,~you’ll suffer more. And
34  IBIS|            final hour to all these ills.~Let me prophesy as few
35  IBIS|       Ancient Torments~ ~Let these ills, and none lighter than these,
36  IBIS|            to the musician’s natal ills,~may a just loathing visit