And bore aloft his arms distilling blood.
He smites the steeds, the rapid chariot flies;
The sudden clouds of circling dust arise.
Now lost is all that formidable air,
The face divine and long descending hair,
Purple the ground, and streak the sable sand;
Deformed, dishonoured, in his native land,
Given to the rage of an insulting throng,
And in his parents sight now dragged along.
The mother first beheld with sad survey,