Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/104

70 LXXVI.

Sudden he stops—his eye is fixed—away—

Away, thou heedless boy! prepare the spear:

Now is thy time, to perish, or display

The skill that yet may check his mad career!

With well-timed croupe the nimble coursers veer;

On foams the Bull, but not unscathed he goes;

Streams from his flank the crimson torrent clear:

He flies, he wheels, distracted with his throes;

Dart follows dart—lance, lance—loud bellowings speak his woes.

LXXVII.

Again he comes; nor dart nor lance avail,

Nor the wild plunging of the tortured horse;

Though Man and Man's avenging arms assail,

Vain are his weapons, vainer is his force.

One gallant steed is stretched a mangled corse;

Another, hideous sight! unseamed appears,

His gory chest unveils life's panting source;

Though death-struck, still his feeble frame he rears;

Staggering, but stemming all, his Lord unharmed he bears.