Baiardo to the neighbouring forest flies,

  Seeking the closest shade and thickest spray;

  Above the feathered monster flaps, with eyes

  Intent to mark where widest is the way.

  But that good horse the greenwood threads, and lies

  At last within a grot, concealed from day.

  When the winged beast has lost Baiardo's traces.

  He soars aloft, and other quarry chases.