Her soul to fresh alarms. Her head she reared,
And near her face an hideous face appeared;
But straight ’twas gone!—In trembling haste she rose,
And saw a ring of monstrous dwarfs inclose
Her rugged couch. Not Teniers’ hand could paint
Forms more grotesque to scare the tempted saint,
Than here, as on they pressed in circling throng,
With gnashing teeth seemed for her blood to long,
And grinned, and glared, and gloated! Quicker grew
Her breath! Death hemmed her round! As yet, ’tis true,