Beats on his back, or bursts upon his head,
Yet, dauntless still, the adverse flood he braves,
And still indignant bounds above the waves.
Tir'd by the tides, his knees relax with toil;
Wash'd from beneath him, slides the slimy soil.
Pope.
When Homer describes the crush of men dashed against a rock, he collects the most unpleasing and harsh sounds.
Συν δε δυω μαρψας, ὡστε σκυλακας ποτι γαιη
Κοπτ'· εκ δ' εγκεφαλος χαμαδις ῥεε, δευε δε γαιαν.
———His bloody hand