Chapter XXIV

When goodly, like a ship in her full trim, A swan so white, that you may unto him Compare all whiteness, but himself to none, Glided along, and as he glided watched, And with his arched neck this poor fish catched: It moved with state, as if to look upon Low things it scorned; and yet before that one Could think he sought it, he had swallowed clear This and much such, and unblamed, devoured there All but who too swift, too great, or well-armed, were.