There, it may be, a man and wife
(Embracing either now as when
They went to rest at night, in life),
Are resting in a turbid glen;
And here a damsel, once so fair,
A smile still lurking on her cheek,
But now across that cheek her hair
Is floating wildly in a creek;
There, laid a stripling, great in build,
A leathern girdle’s round his loins,