Marphisa by the same desire was stirred, Who had her thoughts on tardy vengeance placed, For her dead sire; and as she fiercely spurred, Made her hot courser feel his rider's haste.
But neither martial maid, amid that herd Of flying Moors, so well the monarch chased, As to o'ertake him in his swift retreat, First into Arles, and then aboard his fleet.