Page:Poems on Various Subjects - Coleridge (1796).djvu/152

 But ah the poor Arachne! She unarm'd Blund'ring thro' hasty eagerness, alarm'd With all a Rival's hopes, a Mortal's fears, Still miss'd the stitch, and stain'd the web with tears. Unnumber'd punctures small yet sore Full fretfully the maiden bore, Till she her lily finger found Crimson'd with many a tiny wound; And to her eyes, suffus'd with watry woe, Her flower-embroider'd web danc'd dim, I wist, Like blossom'd shrubs in a quick-moving mist: Till vanquish'd the despairing Maid sunk low.

O Bard! whom sure no common Muse inspires, I heard your Verse that glows with vestal fires! And I from unwatch'd needle's erring point Had surely suffer'd on each finger joint