Robert Seymour Bridges (Роберт Сеймур Бриджес)

Shorter Poems. Book I. 15. Rondeau

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 clips
Their heads between his finger-tips,
And looses with a twanging sound
              His 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.

1. Shorter Poems. Book V. 3. “Since to Be Loved Endures”
2. Shorter Poems. Book I. 6. “Dear Lady, When Thou Frownest”
3. Shorter Poems. Book II. 3. Late Spring Evening
4. Shorter Poems. Book II. 9. Spring. Ode II
5. Shorter Poems. Book II. 8. Spring. Ode I

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