To My Friend - Ode II

To My Friend - Ode II

THOU go'st! I murmur--
Go! let me murmur.
Oh, worthy man,
Fly from this land!


Deadly marshes,
Steaming mists of October
Here interweave their currents,
Blending for ever.


Noisome insects
Here are engender'd;
Fatal darkness
Veils their malice.


The fiery-tongued serpent,
Hard by the sedgy bank,
Stretches his pamper'd body,
Caress'd by the sun's bright beams.


Tempt no gentle night-rambles
Under the moon's cold twilight!
Loathsome toads hold their meetings
Yonder at every crossway.


Injuring not,
Fear will they cause thee.
Oh, worthy man,
Fly from this land!