Or no—like slaves stretched on a heap
Of poisoned arrows. Every limb
Shot with sharp pain; pain seemed to swim
Like a red cloud before our eyes....
The mist broke, and a moment showed,
Pricked clear against a splash of woad,
The spear-points where the hot chase rode.
Idly I watched them dance and rise
Till white wreaths wiped them out again ...
My love jerked at the bridle rein;