Doth snuffe, doth puffe, doth boggle, snore and blow,
Till from his back his rider he doth throw:
Then ranging through their host with sinewie shankes
He wounds his friends, disturbing all their rankes.
64.
There one with shaft infixed in his brest,
As the stalke stoopes his top orecharg’d with seed,
Hangs downe his head: another here opprest
With feare of death, forsakes his wounded steed,
Each place throughout the field our eyes did feed