and deeply driven, drank her maiden blood. Her comrades
run together in alarm, and support their falling mistress. 30
Arruns, more terrified than all, flies away, half joy,
half fear, nor puts further confidence in his lance, nor dares
to meet the darts of the maiden. Even as the caitiff
wolf, ere the weapons of vengeance can follow him, has
fled at once to the pathless privacy of the mountain steep, 35
on slaying a shepherd or mighty bullock, conscious of his
daring deed, and drawing back his quivering tail with
lithe action has clapped it to his belly and made for the