When I am bent and my bosom sends forth
Its poisoned stings, I straightway prepare
5 My deadly darts to deal afar.
As soon as my master, who made me for torment,
Loosens my limbs, my length is increased
Till I vomit the venom with violent motions,
The swift-killing poison I swallowed before.
10 Not any man shall make his escape,
Not one that I spoke of shall speed from the fight,
If there falls on him first what flies from my belly.