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!
1767.
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