"Ulysses and his son the flyers chas’d, As when, with crooked beaks and seres, a cast Of hill-bred eagles, cast-off at some game, That yet their strengths keep, but, put up, in flame The eagle stoops; from which, along the field The poor fowls make wing, this and that way yield Their hard-flown pinions, then the clouds assay For ’scape or shelter, their forlorn dismay All spirit exhaling, all wings’ strength to carry Their bodies forth, and, truss’d up, to the quarry Their falconers ride-in, and rejoice to see Their hawks perform a flight so fervently; So, in their flight, Ulysses with his heir Did stoop and cuff the Wooers, that the air Broke in vast sighs, whose heads they shot and cleft, The pavement boiling with the souls they reft."
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https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Homer's_Odysses_(George_Chapman)
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Homer's Odysses (George Chapman)
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