Modred started with horror, and in his turn fled away swifter than the
winds. The fierce and ravenous animal pursued; fire flashed from the
eye, and rage and fury sat upon the crest. Mild and gentle was the
daughter of Cadwallo; her heart relented; her soft and tender spirit
belied the savage form. They approached the far famed stream of Conway.
Modred cast behind him a timid and uncertain eye; the virgin passed
along, no longer terrible, a fair and milk white hind. Modred inflamed
with disappointment, reared his ponderous boar spear, and hurled it from
his hand. Too well, ah, cruel and untutored swain! thou levelest thy
aim. Her tender side is gored; her spotless and snowy coat is deformed
with blood. Agitated with pain, superior to fear, she plunges in the
flood. When lo! a wonder; on the opposite shore she rises, radiant and
unhurt, in her native form. Modred contemplates the prodigy with
astonishment; his lust and his brutality inflame him more than ever.
Eagerly he gazes on her charms; in thought he devours her inexpressive
beauties. And now he can no longer restrain himself; with sudden start
he leaps into the river. The waves are wrought into a sudden tempest;
they hurry him to and fro. He buffets them with lusty arms; he rides
upon the billows.
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