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Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - To My Friend - Ode II
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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!
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