He drew his falchion without more delay, (His lance was broken at the other town), And, though the unarmed people making way, Wounding flank, paunch, and bosom, bore them down.
He whirled his weapon, and, amid the array, Smote some across the gullet, cheek, or crown.
Screaming, the dissipated rabble fled;
The most with cloven limbs or broken head.