“His foll’owers favour with a piercing cry
This goodly lunge of lance; nor is he slow
To snatch another (for innum’erous lie
The weapons lost by battle’s losing throw):
He runs with couchèd spear: His bravery
Urgeth his Braves who, brent with martial lowe,
Into the courser’s flanks keen rowels thrust,
And lance the foeman level with the dust.”