So when the Stag breaths on the guilty Heaps,
Where hid from Cold the wily Serpent sleeps,
That wond'rous Spell will rouze the crested Snake,
Forc'd from the Covert of the inmost Brake.
Angry he comes, high on his Folds uprears
His speckled Form, and hides his secret Fears.
Resolv'd the Stag his fixt Design pursues,
Gripes fast the Wretch, and gives the killing Bruise.
The Snake impatient winds his twisted Train,
And knotted Wreaths express the wringing Pain.
Now round the Stag's branch'd Horns he curling twines,
Now on his Neck the glossy Circle shines.
The Stag unmov'd the restless Struggler tears,
While greenish Stain the drooping Flow'ret smears.
Scatter'd around the mangled Gobbets fall,
And wriggling o'er the blasted Herbage crawl.