But I was loath, like some defenceless beast
Harried into a hole, to suffer slaughter,
And springing forth I charged impetuous—flashing
Full at them, in my hand the lifted sword.
The sun was near the dipping of its disc
And streaming, like a candle destined soon
To quench its glow, with doubly vivid ray.
But they, as though for them alone the night
Outran its hour, stormed on with furious curses
Passing me by, and ringed them round the grave.