The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical

Oh! cruel, base, inhuman drab,
To give him such a mortal stab,
That made him pine away and moulder,
As though that he had been no soldier :
Could'st thou find no one else to kill,
Thou instrument of death and hell!
But Hudibras, who stood the Bears
So oft against the Cavaliers,
And in the very heat of war
Took stout Crowdero prisoner ;
And did such wonders all along,
That far exceed both pen and tongue?

If he had been in battle Nain,
We 'ad had less reason to complain ;
But to be inurder'd by a whore,
Was ever knight to serv'd before ?
But, since he 's gone, all we can say,
He chanc'd to die a lingering way ;
If he had liv'd a longer date,
He might, perhaps, have met a fate
More violent, and fitting for
A knight so fam'd in Civil war.
To sum up all—from love and danger
He's now (O happy Knight!) a stranger ;
And, if a Muse can aught foretell,
Hi fame shall fill a chronicle,
And he in after-ages be
Of errant knights th' epitome.

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HUDIBRAS'S EPITAPH.

UNDE

NDER this stone rests Hudibras,

A Knight as errant as e'er was ;
The controversy only lies,
Whether he was more stout than wise;
Nor can we here pretend to say,

5
Whether he best could fight or pray;
So, till those questions are decided,
His virtues must rest undivided.
Full oft he suffer'd bangs and drubs,
And full as oft took pains in tubs;
Of which the most that can be said,
He pray'd and fought, and fought and pray'd.
As for his personage and shape,
Among the rest we'll let them scape ;
Nor do we, as things stand, think fit
This stone should meddle with his wit.
One thing, 'tis true, we ought to tell,
He liv'd and dy'd a colonel ;
And for the Good old Cause stood buff,
'Gainst many a bitter kick and cuff.
But, since his Worship 's dead and gone,
And mouldering lies beneath this stone,
The Reader is desir'd to look,
For his atchievements in his Book ;
Which will preserve of Knight the Tale,