Childe Harold's Pilgrimage

   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.