Olmida lost his right arm in the fray,
And little hope of life doth now remain;
Our brave Estatius made a full display
Of all his lithesome vigour, but in vain,
For as he ran the Numantine to meet,
His passage on to death was still more fleet.
With speed of lightning, hurrying where they may,
They ran from tent to tent, until they found
Some scraps of biscuit, which they seized as prey.
With fury, still unquenched, they turned them round;