Worn with toil, with slap opprest,
I press my mossy bed, and sink to rest.
Then, once more, I see our train,
With all our chase renew'd again:
Once more 'tis day,
Once more our prey
Gnashes his angry teeth, and foams in vain.
Again, in sullen haste, he flies,
Ta'en in the toil, again he lies,
Again he roars—and, in my slumbers, dies.