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Then was a little respite to the fear,
That in my heart’s recesses deep had lain
All of that night, so pitifully past:
And as a man, with difficult short breath,
Forespent with toiling, ’scaped from sea to shore,
Turns to the perilous wide waste, and stands
At gaze; e’en so my spirit, that yet fail’d,
Struggling with terror, turn’d to view the straits
That none hath passed and lived. My weary frame
After short pause recomforted, again
I journey’d on over that lonely steep,
The hinder foot still firmer. Scarce the ascent
Began, when, lo! a panther, nimble, light,
And cover’d with a speckled skin, appear’d;
Nor, when it saw me, vanish’d; rather strove
To check my onward going; that oft-times,
With purpose to retrace my steps, I turn’d.
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