And he struggled like a horse that dogs have gripped by the ears
Crying out in a dreadful voice, and with his loins dragging his living prison this way and that!
And there was one who, holding his sword in both hands,
Sought for the joint of the armor, like a cook who opens a crab with the point of a knife.
Voice: O!
Cassius: O!
What a clear and poignant cry we heard him give, like mighty Pallas feeling the grasp of the Satyr,
Such that the memory of it made
Our bones vibrate like instruments!
And we recognised the voice as the woman knows the cry of her mate,