Fortune saw Thus waged a novel combat, for there warred Against one man an army.

Why with darts, Madmen, assail him and with slender shafts, 'Gainst which his life is proof?
Or ponderous stones This warrior chief shall overwhelm, or bolts Flung by the twisted thongs of mighty slings.
Let steelshod ram or catapult remove This champion of the gate.

No fragile wall Stands here for Caesar, blocking with its bulk Pompeius' way to freedom.

Now he trusts His shield no more, lest his sinister hand, Idle, give life by shame; and on his breast Bearing a forest of spears, though spent with toil And worn with onset, falls upon his foe And braves alone the wounds of all the war.
Thus may an elephant in Afric wastes, Oppressed by frequent darts, break those that fall Rebounding from his horny hide, and shake Those that find lodgment, while his life within Lies safe, protected, nor doth spear avail To reach the fount of blood.

Unnumbered wounds By arrow dealt, or lance, thus fail to slay This single warrior.