The serpent by this was relaxing the thorn-ridge endless-long {150}
Of his Titan-spires, and was lengthening out his coils untold,
Even as a dark wave over a sluggish sea slow-rolled,
A dumb and a thunderless surge: yet still, in despite of the spell,
His grisly head he uplifted on high, with purpose fell
To encompass the twain with the grip of his murderous jaws: but she,
Dipping the newly-slivered spray of a juniper-tree
In her mystic brewis, singing—singing—rained down fast
Untempered spells on his eyne, and about him and o’er him was cast
Sleep by the drug’s strong fume; and his dragon-jaws he laid