Till soon he jars against that glossy skin,
Solid like glass, though seemingly as thin.
XLIV.
Lo! how she startles at the warning shock,
And straightway girds him to her radiant breast,
More like his safe smooth harbor than his rock;
Poor wretch, he is so faint and toil-opprest,
He cannot loose him from his grappling foe,
Whether for love or hate, she lets not go.
XLV.