The Gods took
pity upon her distress, the Gods sent down their swift and winged
messenger to shield her virtue, and deliver her from the persecution of
Modred. With strong and eager steps the ravisher pursued: timid
apprehension, and unviolated honour, urged her rapid flight. But Modred
was in the pride of youth; muscular and sinewy was the frame of Modred.
Beauteous and snowy was the person of the fair: her form was delicate,
and her limbs were tender. If heaven had not interposed, if the Gods had
not been on her side, she must have fallen a victim to savage fury and
brutal lust. But, in the crisis of her fate, she gradually sunk away
before the astonished eyes of Modred. That beauteous frame was now no
more, and she started from before him, swifter than the winds, a timid
and listening hare. Still, still the hunter pursued; he suspended not
the velocity of his course. The speed of Modred was like the roe upon
the mountains; every moment he gained upon the daughter of Cadwallo. But
now the object of his pursuit vanished from his sight, and eluded his
eager search. In vain he explored every thicket, and surveyed all the
paths of the forest. While he was thus employed, on a sudden there burst
from a cave a hungry and savage wolf; it was the daughter of Cadwallo.
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