And laid him all at length;
But how in each succeeding round
Sayerius smiling came,
With head as cool, and wind as sound,
As his first moment on the ground,
Still confident, and game.
How from Heenanus’ sledge-like fist,
Striving a smasher to resist,
Sayerius’ stout right arm gave way,
Yet the maim’d hero still made play,