XVII
As we, that ere the worst her hero haps,
Of Angels guided, nigh that loathly den:
A toady cave beside an ague fen,
Where long forlorn the lone dog whines and yaps.
XVIII
By daylight now the forest fear could read
Itself, and at new wonders chuckling went.
Straight for the roebuck’s neck the bowman spent
A dart that laughed at distance and at speed.