That ride upon the [violent] speed of fire,
Fly with false aim; [move the still-peering] air,
That [sings] with piercing; do not touch my lord.
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there;
Whoever charges on his forward breast,
I am the caitiff that do hold him [to 't;]
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected: better 'twere
I met the [ravin] lion when he roar'd
With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere