Shook the wild tangles of his frosty hair,
And laid him down again with sullen roar:
But now the frightened nymphs like statues stand,
One balancing her body half in air,
Dreading to hear again that tumult sore;
One, with a liquid tremor in her eye,
Waving above her head a glimmering hand;
Till suddenly, like dreams, away they fly,
Leaving the forest stiller than before!