/0/16087/coverbig.jpg?v=c19a873b80161252cbdc8328fd066499)
Serpent, thou fain wouldst flee, but canst not;
Try for thy hiding-place, it is no more;
Recall thy strength, 'tis spent;
Wait for the sun, behind thick fog he hides;
Cry mercy of the hind, he fears thy tooth.
Fortune invoke, she hears thee not, the jade!
Nor flight, nor place, nor star, nor man, nor fate
Can bring to thee deli