and quaffs milk With horse-blood curdled.

  Yet ne'er doth kindlier fortune crown his toil,

  Than if with blade of iron a man dare lance

  The ulcer's mouth ope: for the taint is fed

  And quickened by confinement; while the swain

  His hand of healing from the wound withholds,

  Or sits for happier signs imploring heaven.

  Aye, and when inward to the bleater's bones

  The pain hath sunk and rages, and their limbs

  By thirsty fever are consumed, 'tis good

  To draw the enkindled heat therefrom, and pierce

  Within the hoof-clefts a blood-bounding vein.

  Of tribes Bisaltic such the wonted use,

  And keen Gelonian, when to Rhodope

  He flies, or Getic desert, and quaffs milk

  With horse-blood curdled.