Xvi

Their dam upstart, out of her den effraide, And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile About her cursed head, whose folds displaid Were stretcht now forth at length without entraile. She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle Armed to point,° sought backe to turne againe; For light she hated as the deadly bale, Ay wont in desert darknesse to remaine, Where plain none might her see, nor she see any plaine.