Then with their sharpened fangs their limbs and bodies grind.
The wretched father, running to their aid
With pious haste, but vain, they next invade.—Dryden.
[38]. See Appendix, note 11.
[39]. With both his hands he labors at the knots.
[40].
Twice round his waist their winding volumes rolled,
And twice about his gasping throat they fold.
The priest thus doubly choked,—their crests divide,
And towering o’er his head in triumph ride.—Dryden.