A Cretan archer's shaft, more sure of aim

Than vows could hope for, strikes on Scaeva's brow

To light within his eye: the hero tugs

Intrepid, bursts the nerves, and tears the shaft

Forth with the eyeball, and with dauntless heel

Treads them to dust. Not otherwise a bear

Pannonian, fiercer for the wound received,

Maddened by dart from Libyan thong propelled,