--- lethalis arundo
Virgil
Mistaken Marskman! I defy
Your impotent artillery;
Your level'd tube I value not,
Nor tremble at the threaten'd shot;
When the fair Lady who sits by,
Shoots darts more fatal from her eye.
As well I might a hornet fear,
When the arm'd porcupine is near;
Or from a hissing squib retire,
When lightnings set the heavens on fire.
Mistaken Marksman! now you may
Such idle bullets throw away;
For what avails your Pop-gun skill,
Your shot may wound-but hers can kill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem