We fight in ropes, and not in lists,
Bestowing hand-cuffs with our fists,
A low and vulgar art!—
No mounted man is overthrown:
A tilt!—it is a thing unknown—
Except upon a cart!
Methinks I see the bounding barb,
Clad like his Chief in steely garb,
For warding steel's appliance!
Methinks I hear the trumpet stir!