WHILE thus the gentle tenants of the shade
Indulge their purer loves, the rougher world
Of brutes below, rush furious into flame,
And fierce desire. Thro' all his lusty veins
The bull, deep-scorch'd, receives the raging fire.
Of pasture sick, and negligent of food,
Scarce seen, he wades among the yellow broom,
While o'er his brawny back the rambling sprays
Luxuriant shoot; or thro' the mazy wood
Dejected wanders, nor th' inticing bud
Crops, tho' it presses on his careless sense:
For, wrapt in mad imagination, he
Roars for the fight, and idly butting, feigns
A rival gor'd in every knotty trunk.
Such should he meet, the bellowing war begins;
Their eyes flash fury; to the hollow'd earth,
Whence the sand flies, they mutter bloody deeds,
And groaning vast th' impetuous battle mix:
While the fair heifer, redolent, in view
Stands kindling up their rage. The trembling steed,
With this hot impulse seiz'd in every nerve,
Nor hears the rein, nor heeds the sounding whip;
Blows are not felt; but tossing high his head,
And by the well-known joy, to distant plains
Attracted strong, all wild, he bursts away;
O'er rocks, and woods, and craggy mountains flies,
And neighing, on the aerial summit takes
Th' informing gale; then steep-descending, cleaves
The headlong torrents foaming down the hills,
Even where the madness of the straiten'd streams
Turns in black eddies round: Such is the force
With which his frantick heart, and sinews swell.