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Pikes, halberts, spits, and darts that wound so far,
fame.But how they fought, and what their valour gain'd, Shall in another Canto be contain'd.
The bloody fight, successless toil,
THE boat which on the first assault did go,
Strook with a harping-iron the younger foe; Who, when he felt his side so rudely gor'd, Loud as the sea that nourish'd him he roar'd. As a broad bream, to please some curious taste, While yet alive, in boiling water cast, Vex'd with unwonted heat, he flings about The scorching brass, and hurls the liquor out; So with the barbed javelin stung, he raves, And scourges with his tail the suffering waves. Like Spenser's Talus with his iron fail, He threatens ruin with his ponderous tail ; Dissolving at one stroke the batter'd boat, And down the men fall drenched in the moat; Vol. I.
With every fierce encounter they are forc'd
The bigger whale like some huge carrack lay,
This sees the cub, and does himself oppose Betwixt his cumber'd mother and her foes : With desperate courage he receives her wounds, And men and boats his active tail confounds. Their forces join'd, the seas with billows fill, And make a tempest though the winds be still.
Now would the men with half their hoped prey Be well content, and wish this cub away: Their wish they have : he (to direct his dam Unto the gap through which they thither came) Before her swims, and quits the hostile lake, A prisoner there but for his mother's sake. She, by the rocks compell’d to stay behind, Is by the vastness of her bulk confin'd. They shout for joy! and now on her alone Their fury falls, and all their darts are thrown. Their lances spent, one, bolder than the rest, With his broad sword provok'd the sluggish beast: Her oily side devours both blade and baft, And there his steel the bold Bermudan left. Courage the rest from his example take, And now they change the colour of the lake : Blood flows in rivers from her wounded side, As if they would prevent the tardy tide, And raise the food to that propitious height, As might convey her from this fatal streight. She swims in blood, and blood does spouting throw To Heav'n, that Heav'n men's cruelties might know. Their fixed javelins in her side she wears, And on her back a grove of pikes appears ;
You would have thought had you the monster seen Thus drest, she had another island been. Roaring she tears the air with such a noise, As well-resembled the conspiring voice Of routed armies, when the field won, To reach the ears of her escaped son. He, though a league removed from the foe, Hastes to her aid : the pious Trojan so, Neglecting for Creüsa's lite his own, Repeats the danger of the burning town. The men, amazed, blush to see the seed Of monsters human piety exceed. Well proves this kindness, what the Grecian sung, That Love's bright mother from the Ocean sprung. Their courage droops, and, hopeless now, they wish For composition with the unconquer'd fish; So she their weapons would restore again, Through rocks they'd hew her passage to the main. But how instructed in each other's mind ? Or what commerce can men with monsters find ? Not daring to approach their wounded foe, Whom her courageous son protected so, They charge their muskets, and with hot desire Of fell revenge, renew the fight with fire ; Standing aloof, with lead they bruise the scales, And tear the flesh of the incensed whales. But no success their fierce endeavours found, Nor this way could they give one fatal wound. Now to their fort they are about to send For the loud engines which their isle defend ; But what those pieces, fram'd to batter walls, Would bave effected on those mighty whales, Great Neptune will not have us know, who sends A tide so high that it relieves his friends : And thus they parted with exchange of harms; Much blood the monsters lost, and they their arms.
EPISTLE To a Lady, from whom he received the Copy of the
Poem entitled 'Of a Tree cut in Paper,' which for many Years had been lost. NOTHING lies hid from radiant eyes ;
All they subdue become their spies.
The picture of fair Venus, (that
If Virtue's self were lost, we might From your fair mind new copies write. All things but one you can restore ; The heart you get returns no more.
Tell her that wastes her time and me,
Tell her, that's young,
That hadst thou sprung
Small is the worth
Bid her come forth,
Then die, that she
May read in thee:
Pleasures shorter than the day?
OF MY LADY ISABELLA PLAYING ON THE
LUTE. SUCH moving sounds from such a careless touch!
So unconcern'd herself, and we so much! What art is this, that with so little pains Transports as thus, and o'er our spirits reigns ?