Headlong beneath him, breaking at his feet

With wild importunate cries and angry wail;

Like crowds that shout for bread and hunger more.

And now the surface of their rolling backs

Was ridged with foam-topt furrows, rising high

And dashing wildly, like to fiery steeds,

Fresh from the Thracian or Thessalian plains,

High-blooded mares just tempering to the bit,