“Awhile we breathe, then forward rush amain, Renew the combat, and our ground maintain; Foot strove with foot, I, prone, extend my breast, Hands war with hands, and forehead forehead press’d. Thus have I seen two furious bulls engage, Inflamed with equal love and equal rage, Each claims the fairest heifer of the grove, And conquest only can decide their love: The trembling herds survey the fight from far, Till victory decides the important war: Three times, in vain, he strove my joints to wrest, To force my hold, and throw me from his breast; The fourth he broke my gripe, that clasp’d him round, Then with new force he stretch’d me on the ground; Close to my back the mighty burden clung, As if a mountain o’er my limbs were flung; Believe my tale; nor do I, boastful, aim By feign’d narration to extol my fame; No sooner from his arm I freedom get, Unlock my arms, that flow’d with trickling sweat, But quick he seized me, and renew’d the strife, As my exhausted bosom pants for life; My neck he gripes, my knee to earth he strains, I fall, and bite the sand with shame and pains.