But for the harm of death is no repair.’
12
Then looking up she saw an uncouth form
Perch’d on the further bank, whose parted lips
Volley’d their friendly warning in a storm:
A man he might have been, but for the tips
Of horns appearing from his shaggy head,
For o’er his matted beard his face was red,
And all his shape was manlike to the hips.
13