Nor Rodomont to Nimrod yields in might, Proud and untamed; and who would not forbear To scale the lofty firmament till night, Could he in this wide world descry the stair.
He stood not, he, to mark the bulwark's plight Nor if the fosse of certain bottom were.
He past, ran, -- rather flew across the moat, Plunging in filth and water to his throat.