now-a-days: he caught it up with hurried grasp and
flung it at his foe, rising as he threw, and running rapidly,
as hero might. And yet all the while he knows not that
he is running or moving, lifting up or stirring the enormous
stone: his knees totter under him, and his blood
chills and freezes: and so the mass from the warrior’s
hand, whirled through the empty void, passed not through
all the space between nor carried home the blow. Even 5
as in dreams, at night, when heavy slumber has weighed
down the eyes, we seem vainly wishing to make eager