Gave way to fortune, and with haste
Fac'd the proud foe, and fled, and fac’'d,
Retiring still, until he found
He 'ad got the advantage of the ground;
And then as valiantly made head
To check the foe, and forthwith fled,
Leaving no art untry'd, nor trick
Of warrior stout and politick,
Until, in spite of hot pursuit,
He gain'd a pafs, to hold difpute
On better terms, and stop the course
Of the proud foe. With all his force
He bravely charg'd, and for a while
Forc'd their whole body to recoil;
But still their numbers fo increas'd,
He found himself at length opprefs'd,
And all evafions fo uncertain,
To fave himself for better fortune,
That he refolv'd, rather than yield,
To die with honour in the field,
And fell his hide and carcass at
A price as high and desperate
As e'er he could. This refolution
He forthwith put in execution,
And bravely threw himself among
Th' enemy i' th' greatest throng;
But what cou'd fingle valour do
Against so numerous a foe?
Yet much he did, indeed too much
To be believ'd, where th' odds were fuch;
But one against a multitude,
Is more than mortal can make good:
For while one party he oppos'd,
His rear was fuddenly enclos'd,
And no room left him for retreat,
Or fight against a foe so great.
For now the maftives, charging home,
To blows and handy-gripes were come ;
While manfully himself he bore,
And, fetting his right foot before,
He rais'd himself to fhew how tall
His person was above them all.
This equal fhame and envy stirr'd
In th' enemy, that one should beard
So many warriors, and so stout,
As he had done, and ftav'd it out,
Difdaining to lay down his arms,
And yield on honourable terms.
Enraged thus, fome in the rear
Attack'd him, and fome ev'ry where,
Till down he fell; yet falling fought,
And, being down, still laid about ;
As Widdrington, in doleful dumps,
Is faid to fight upon his stumps.
But all, alas! had been in vain, And he inevitably flain,
If Trulla and Cerdon, in the nick,
To rescue him had not been quick:
For Trulla, who was light of foot,
As fhafts which long-field Parthians shoot,
But not fo light as to be borne
Upon the ears of standing corn,
Or trip it o'er the water quicker
Than witches, when their staves they liquor,
As fome report, was got among
The foremost of the martial throng;
Where pitying the vanquish'd bear,
She call'd to Cerdon, who stood near,
Viewing the bloody fight; to whom,
Shall we, quoth she, stand still hum-drum,
And fee ftout bruin, all alone,
By numbers bafely overthrown?
Such feats already he 'as atchiev'd,
In story not to be believ'd,
And t' would to us be shame enough,
Not to attempt to fetch him off.
I would, quoth he, venture a limb
To fecond thee, and rescue him;
But then we must about it straight,
Or else our aid will come too late :
Quarter he fcorns, he is fo ftout,
And therefore cannot long hold out.
This faid, they wav'd their weapons round
About their heads, to clear the ground;
And joining forces, laid about
So fiercely, that th' amazed rout
Turn'd tail again, and straight begun,
As if the devil drove, to run.
Mean-while th' approach'd th' place where bruin
Was now engag'd to mortal ruin :
|