Chapter XXX

A sudden stiff land-wind in that self hour To sea-ward forced this bird that did devour The fish; he cares not, for with ease he flies, Fat gluttony's best orator: at last, So long he hath flown, and hath flown so fast, That, leagues o'erpast at sea, now tired he lies, And with his prey, that till then languished, dies: The souls, no longer foes, two ways did err. The fish I follow, and keep no calender Of the other: he lives yet in some great officer.