his flying steeds
His chariot bore, o’er bodies of the slain
And broken bucklers trampling; all beneath
Was splash’d with blood the axle, and the rails
Around the car, as from the horses’ feet
And from the felloes of the wheels were thrown
The bloody gouts; and onward still he pressed,
Panting for added triumphs; deeply dyed
With gore and carnage his unconquer’d hands.[423]
