His lips he had not wetted in its bed Before a youthful rustic, ambushed near, Sprang from a copse, backed Rabican, and fled With the good courser of the cavalier.
Astolpho hears the noise and lifts his head, And, when he sees his mighty loss so clear, Satiate, although he had not drunk, upstarts, And after the young churl in fury darts.
