15RONDEAUHis poisoned shafts, that fresh he dipsIn juice of plants that no bee sips,He takes, and with his bow renown’dGoes out upon his hunting ground,Hanging his quiver at his hips.He draws them one by one, and clipsTheir heads between his finger-tips,And looses with a twanging soundHis poisoned shafts.But if a maiden with her lipsSuck from the wound the blood that drips,And drink the poison from the wound,The simple remedy is foundThat of their deadly terror stripsHis poisoned shafts.
15RONDEAUHis poisoned shafts, that fresh he dipsIn juice of plants that no bee sips,He takes, and with his bow renown’dGoes out upon his hunting ground,Hanging his quiver at his hips.He draws them one by one, and clipsTheir heads between his finger-tips,And looses with a twanging soundHis poisoned shafts.But if a maiden with her lipsSuck from the wound the blood that drips,And drink the poison from the wound,The simple remedy is foundThat of their deadly terror stripsHis poisoned shafts.
His poisoned shafts, that fresh he dipsIn juice of plants that no bee sips,He takes, and with his bow renown’dGoes out upon his hunting ground,Hanging his quiver at his hips.He draws them one by one, and clipsTheir heads between his finger-tips,And looses with a twanging soundHis poisoned shafts.But if a maiden with her lipsSuck from the wound the blood that drips,And drink the poison from the wound,The simple remedy is foundThat of their deadly terror stripsHis poisoned shafts.
His poisoned shafts, that fresh he dipsIn juice of plants that no bee sips,He takes, and with his bow renown’dGoes out upon his hunting ground,Hanging his quiver at his hips.He draws them one by one, and clipsTheir heads between his finger-tips,And looses with a twanging soundHis poisoned shafts.But if a maiden with her lipsSuck from the wound the blood that drips,And drink the poison from the wound,The simple remedy is foundThat of their deadly terror stripsHis poisoned shafts.
His poisoned shafts, that fresh he dipsIn juice of plants that no bee sips,He takes, and with his bow renown’dGoes out upon his hunting ground,Hanging his quiver at his hips.
His poisoned shafts, that fresh he dips
In juice of plants that no bee sips,
He takes, and with his bow renown’d
Goes out upon his hunting ground,
Hanging his quiver at his hips.
He draws them one by one, and clipsTheir heads between his finger-tips,And looses with a twanging soundHis poisoned shafts.
He draws them one by one, and clips
Their heads between his finger-tips,
And looses with a twanging sound
His poisoned shafts.
But if a maiden with her lipsSuck from the wound the blood that drips,And drink the poison from the wound,The simple remedy is foundThat of their deadly terror stripsHis poisoned shafts.
But if a maiden with her lips
Suck from the wound the blood that drips,
And drink the poison from the wound,
The simple remedy is found
That of their deadly terror strips
His poisoned shafts.