Wend where the warrior will, an-end or wide, Ever with him is that accursed Pest:
Nor knows he how from her to be untied, Albeit his courser plunges without rest.
Like a leaf quakes his heart within his side, Not that the snakes in other mode molest, But they such horror and such loathing bred, He shrieks, he groans, and gladly would be dead.
