XXVIII.
From tree to tree the champions fly and fight,
Driving or driven from the sheltering screen,
Each change, each movement, yielding to the sight
Their swarthy members through the foliage green;
Whereat their arrows follow, flight on flight,
With hideous yells at every pause between;
Now down the stream—now at the tumbling falls,
The petty battle raves, and wrath to vengeance calls.
XXIX.