Classic Poem

Just as a yoke with leathern thong
They fasten on that it may hold:
So have I now held fast thy soul,
That thou mayst live and mayst not die,
Anon to be unhurt and well.
Downward is blown the blast of wind,
Downward the burning sunbeams shoot,
Adown the milk streams from the cow:
So downward may thy ailment go.