Behind their treacherous shallows they withdraw,
And there lay snares to catch the British host.
180.
So the false spider, when her nets are spread,
Deep ambushed in her silent den does lie,
And feels far off the trembling of her thread,
Whose filmy cord should bind the struggling fly;
181.
Then, if at last she find him fast beset,
She issues forth, and runs along her loom;