Within a witches’ Paradise

Of music, germans, roses, lawn.

So through the season, where you go,

All else than Lita men forget:

One needs no second-sight to know

That sorcery is rampant yet.

Now, since the bars no more await

Fair maids that practise sable arts,

Take heed, while I pronounce the fate

Of her who thus ensnares men’s hearts: