The forest shakes, the groves their honours cast; He flies aloft, and with impetuous roar Pursues the foaming surges to the shore. Thus, o'er the Elean plains, thy well-breathed horse Impels the flying car, and wins the course, Or, bred to Belgian waggons, leads the way, Untired at night, and chearful all the day. When once he's broken, feed him full and high; Indulge his growth, and his gaunt sides supply. Before his training, keep him poor and low; For his stout stomach with his food will grow: The pampered colt will discipline disdain, Impatient of the lash, and restiff to the rein. Would'st thou their courage and their strength improve? Too soon they must not feel the stings of love. Whether the bull or courser be thy care, Let him not leap the cow, nor mount the mare. The youthful bull must wander in the wood Behind the mountain, or beyond the flood, Or in the stall at home his fodder find, Far from the charms of that alluring kind. With two fair eyes his mistress burns his breast: He looks, and languishes, and leaves his rest, Forsakes his food, and, pining for the lass, Is joyless of the grove, and spurns the growing grass. The soft seducer, with enticing looks, The bellowing rivals to the fight provokes. A beauteous heifer in the wood is bred: The stooping warriors, aiming head to head, Engage their clashing horns: with dreadful sound The forest rattles, and the rocks rebound. They fence, they push, and, pushing, loudly roar: Their dewlaps and their sides are bathed in gore. Nor, when the war is over, is it peace; Nor will the vanquished bull his claim release; But, feeding in his breast his ancient fires, And cursing fate, from his proud foe retires. Driven from his native land to foreign grounds, He with a generous rage resents his wounds, His ignominious flight, the victor's boast, And, more than both, the loves, which unrevenged he lost. Often he turns his eyes, and, with a groan, Surveys the pleasing kingdoms, once his own: And therefore to repair his strength he tries, } Hardening his limbs with painful exercise, } And rough upon the flinty rock he lies. } On prickly leaves and on sharp herbs he feeds, Then to the prelude of a war proceeds. His horns, yet sore, he tries against a tree, And meditates his absent enemy. He snuffs the wind; his heels the sand excite; } But, when he stands collected in his might, } He roars, and promises a more successful fight. } Then, to redeem his honour at a blow, He moves his camp, to meet his careless foe. Not more with madness, rolling from afar, The spumy waves proclaim the watery war, And mounting upwards, with a mighty roar, March onwards, and insult the rocky shore. They mate the middle region with their height, And fall no less than with a mountain's weight;