5.
On my newly-tuned guitar I
Play new tunes that seem much fitter
Old the text is, for the words are
Solomon’s: A woman’s bitter.
To her husband she is faithless,
And she treats her friend with malice;
Wormwood are the last remaining
Drops in love’s once-golden chalice.
Tell me, is the ancient legend
Of the curse of sin no libel?
Did the serpent bring it on thee,
As recorded in the Bible?
Creeping on the earth, the serpent
Lurks in every bush around thee,
Still, as formerly, caresses,
And her hisses still confound thee.
Ah, how cold and dark ’tis growing!
Round the sun the ravens hover
Croakingly, and love and rapture
Now for evermore are over.