That, with blind rage, the penetrating blow
Pursued; and tossing up his mangled brow,
Besmeared with reeking blood, with horrid cries
Turns round, and from his fallen master flies;
Then with their darts and frequent arrows all
Invade him, and now dare to hope his fall.
His immense shoulders and his sides appear
One wound entire; his dusky back doth bear
Innumerable shafts, that, like a wood,
Still waving as he moved, upon him stood;