And into fiery splinters leapt the lance,
And out of stricken helmets sprang the fire.
Part sat like rocks: part reel’d but kept their seats:
Part roll’d on the earth and rose again and drew:
Part stumbled mixt with floundering horses. Down
From those two bulks at Arac’s side and down
From Arac’s arm, as from a giant’s flail,
The large blows rain’d, as here and everywhere
He rode the mellay, lord of the ringing lists,
And all the plain,—brand, mace and shaft and shield—