Hence, sores and pustules, fly away even as the eagle from his home. Let the sun, God's sign, bring a remedy, the moon shine forth and banish you.

2 One bright with variegated tints, one white, one black, a couple red: the names of all have I declared. Begone, and injure not our men.

3 Hence, childless, shall the pustule flee, granddaughter of the dusky one. The boil shall fly away from us, the morbid growth shall vanish hence.