Note 373 — Chapter XXII · ROUGH SPORTS.
Reading edition
Curs'd dog, the bull reply'd, no more I wonder at thy thirst of gore; For thou (beneath a butcher train'd, Whose hands with cruelty are stain'd, His daily murders in thy view) Must, like thy tutor, blood pursue. Take then thy fate. With goring wound At once he lifts him from the ground: Aloft the sprawling hero flies, Mangled he falls, he howls, and dies.[373]