Was not by half fo tender-hooft,

Nor trod upon the ground so soft :
And as that beast would kneel and stoop,
Some write, to take his rider up:

So Hudibras his, 'tis well known,
Would often do, to fet him down.

We shall not need to say what lack
Of leather was upon his back :

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440

For that was hidden under pad,

And breech of Knight gall'd full as bad.

His ftrutting ribs on both fides fhow'd

445

Like furrows he himself had plow'd:
For underneath the skirt of pannel,
'Twixt every two there was a channel.
His draggling tail hung in the dirt,
Which on his rider he would flurt;
Still as his tender side he prickt,

With arm'd heel, or with unarm'd, kickt ;

450

For Hudibras wore but one spur,
As wifely knowing, could he stir
To active trot one fide of's horse,
The other would not hang an arfe.

A Squire he had, whose name was Ralph, That in th' adventure went his half.

Though writers, for more stately tone,

Do call him Ralpho, 'tis all one:

And when we can, with metre safe,

We'll call him fo, if not, plain Raph;

For rhyme the rudder is of verses,

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With which, like ships, they steer their courses.

An equal stock of wit and valour

465

He had laid in, by birth a taylor.

The mighty Tyrian queen that gain'd,

With fubtle fhreds, a tract of land,

Did leave it, with a castle fair,

To his great ancestor, her heir;

470

From him descended cross-legg'd knights ;
Fam'd for their faith and warlike fights
Against the bloody Cannibal,

Whom they destroy'd both great and small.

This sturdy Squire had, as well

As the bold Trojan knight, seen hell,
Not with a counterfeited pafs

Of golden bough, but true gold lace.

His knowledge was not far behind

The knight's, but of another kind,

And he another way came by't;

Some call it GIFTS, and fome NEW LIGHT.

A lib'ral art that costs no pains

Of study, industry, or brains.

His wits were sent him for a token,
But in the carriage crack'd and broken.
Like commendation nine-pence crookt.
With-to and from my love-it lookt.

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He ne'er confider'd it, as loth

To look a gift-horse in the mouth;
And very wifely would lay forth
No more upon it than 'twas worth.
But as he got it freely, fo

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He spent it frank and freely too.

For faints themselves will fometimes be,

495

Of gifts that cost them nothing, free.

By means of this, with hem and cough,
Prolongers to enlighten'd snuff,

He could deep mysteries unriddle,

As easily as thread a needle;

For as of vagabonds we say,

That they are ne'er beside their way:
Whate'er men speak by this new light,
Still they are fure to be i̇' th' right.
'Tis a dark-lanthorn of the spirit,

Which none fee by but those that bear it;

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505

A light that falls down from on high,

For fpiritual trades to cozen by:
An ignis fatuus, that bewitches,

And leads men into pools and ditches,

To make them dip themselves, and found
For Christendom in dirty pond;

To dive, like wild-fowl, for falvation,
And fish to catch regeneration.
This light inspires, and plays upon
The nose of faint, like bag-pipe drone,
And speaks through hollow empty foul,
As through a trunk, or whisp'ring hole,
Such language as no mortal ear
But spiritual eaves-droppers can hear.
So Phœbus, or some friendly muse,
Into small poets song infuse;
Which they at fecond-hand rehearse,

Thro' reed or bag-pipe, verse for verse.

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515

520