“Now, with drawn sabre and impetuous speed, In close pursuit he drives Pandion’s breed; Whose nimble feet spring with so swift a force Across the fields, they seem to wing their course. And now, on real wings themselves they raise, And steer their airy flight by different ways; One to the woodland’s shady covert hies, Around the smoky roof the other flies; Whose feathers yet the marks of murder stain, Where stamped upon her breast the crimson spots remain. Tereus, through grief and haste to be revenged, Shares the like fate, and to a bird is changed; Fixed on his head the crested plumes appear, Long is his beak, and sharpened like a spear; Thus armed, his looks his inward mind display, And, to a lapwing turned, he fans his way.”

See also Confessio Amantis , V :⁠—