The arrows' double shower the ample sky With wide-extended shade is seen to shrowd;
Breath, smoke of sweat and dust ascend on high, And seem to stamp in air a murky cloud.
By turns each host gives way, and you might spy, Now chasing, now in flight, the self-same crowd;
And here some wight, beside his foeman slain, Or little distant, prostrate on the plain.
