Now on a sudden all the race course filled with din
Of rattling chariots. Up aloft the dust cloud flew,
Enwrapping all together. Spared they not the goad
That one might pass the others’ horses snorting foam
For horses, breathing neck and neck, now smote with flecks,
Blown backwards, rivals’ flanks and fellies of the wheels.
But he, just grazing past the post each time, would urge
The trace-horse on the right and curb the left inside.
Now thus far all the chariots had fared upright,
But here the Ænianian’s colts the curb refused,