And to conceal it e’en was oft his aim.
Swift lit the hero from his foaming steed,
And met Salustian wild distracted, borne at speed:
XXIV.
“Hast seen her? Hast thou seen my daughter? Say,
“Know’st thou aught of my girl?”—“Great Heaven, what means
“Thy question?”—“They have ta’en my girl away—
“One, one was not enough. Oh, Hell-born scenes
“Of War!” An instant’s breathing-time he leans