Not by the feeble dart he fell oppressed,
(A dart were lost within that roomy breast,)
But from a knotted lance, large, heavy, strong,
Which roared like thunder as it whirled along:
Not two bull-hides the impetuous force withhold,
Nor coat of double mail, with scales of gold.
Down sunk the monster-bulk, and pressed the ground,
(His arms and clattering shield on the vast body sound,)
Not with less ruin than the Baian mole,
Raised on the seas, the surges to controul—