With brazen hoofs they beat the ground, and choke
The ambient air, with clouds of dust and smoke.
Each gazing Grecian for his champion shakes,
While bold advances he securely makes
Through singeing blasts: such wonders magic art
Can work, when love conspires and plays his part.
The passive savages like statues stand,
While he their dewlap strokes with soothing hand;
To unknown yokes their brawny necks they yield,
And like tame oxen, plough the wondering field.