Without once gathering breath, without repose, The champions one another still assail;
Striving, now here, now there, with deadly blows, To rive the plate, or penetrate the mail.
Nor this one gains, nor the other ground foregoes;
But, as if girded in by fosse or pale, Or, as too dearly sold they deem an inch, Ne'er from their close and narrow circle flinch.