Thwart their dread progress, and provoke their ire,
Round sire and sons the scaly monsters rolled,
Ring above ring in many a tangled fold,
Close and more close their writhing limbs surround,
And fix with foamy teeth the envenomed wound.
With brow upturned to Heaven the holy sage
In silent agony sustains their rage;
While each fond youth, in vain, with piercing cries
Bends on the tortured Sire his dying eyes."
Darwin.