And claps his quivering tail between his thighs:
So, speeding once, the wretch no more attends,
But, spurring forward, herds among his friends.
She wrenched the javelin with her dying hands,
But wedged within her breast the weapon stands:
The wood she draws, the steely point remains;
She staggers in her seat with agonizing pains;
(A gathering mist o'erclouds her cheerful eyes,
And from her cheeks the rosy colour flies;)
Then turns to her, whom, of her female train,