Oh handmaid of Seth, servant of the dark,
cast not thy beauty as bread on the sea.
The curse of the lotus eater is cruel
and doth turn the night into a spurned day.
She calls to you with music and with dance
waving her arms as the cobra in trance.
Her beauty doth blind strongest mortal man,
the siren sings with sweetness and with gall.
But when the time of honeymoon doth end
and the enemy her true face reveals,
then wile nor bloody entreaty prevail
that the devastation there in will end.
Oh demon, helper of the god of night
Cast this bitter cup from my hopeless lips.