The War Horse

as described by Vergil

The fiery courser, when he hears from far,
The sprightly trumpets and the shouts of war,
Pricks up his ears, and trembling with delight,
Shifts place, and paws, and hopes the promis’d sight.
On his right shoulder, his thick mane reclin’d,
Ruffles at speed, and dances in the wind:
His horny hoofs are jetty, black, and round;
His chin is double: starting with a bound
He turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground.
Fire from his eyes, clouds from his nostrils flow;
He bears his rider headlong to the foe.