Woe unto you, fair flowers! woe to you!
A fearful viper crept into the garden,
And where the reptile’s livid breast has touched
The grass is withered and the roses fade,
And yellow as the reptile’s bosom grow.
Fly from the present in thought; recall the days
Which thou hadst spent in joyousness without—
Thou’rt silent! Raise thy voice again and curse;
Let not the dreadful tear which pierces stones
Perish in vain. My helmet I’ll remove.