Who oft had forced the bold assailants yield,
And scattered his pursuers through the field,
Disdaining, furls his mane, and tears the ground,
His eyes inflaming all the desart round,
With roar of seas directs his chasers' way,
Provokes from far, and dares them to the fray;
Such rage stormed now in Absalom's fierce breast,
Such indignation his fired eyes confest.
Where now was the instructor of his pride?
Slept the old pilot in so rough a tide,