LXXIV. In costly sheen and gaudy cloak arrayed, But all afoot, the light-limbed matadore Stands in the centre, eager to invade The lord of lowing herds; but not before The ground, with cautious tread, is traversed o'er, Lest aught unseen should lurk to thwart his speed: His arms a dart, he fights aloof, nor more Can man achieve without the friendly steed-- Alas! too oft condemned for him to bear and bleed.
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