With victory, know no restraint, but give
A loose to joy. Their champion Hobbinol
Vaunting they raise above that earth-born race
Of giants old, who, piling hills on hills,
Pelion on Ossa, with rebellious aim
Made war on Jove. The sturdy mountaineers,
Who saw their mightiest fallen, and in his fall
Their honours past impair'd, their trophies, won
By their proud fathers, who with scorn look'd down
Upon the subject vale, sullied, despoil'd
And levell'd with the dust, no longer bear
The keen reproach. But, as when sudden fire
Seizes the ripen'd grain, whose bending ears
Invite the reaper's hand, the furious god
In sooty triumph dreadful rides, upborne
On wings of wind, that with destructive breath
Feed the fierce flames; from ridge to ridge he bounds, Wide-wasting, and pernicious ruin spreads :
So through the crowd, from breast to breast, swift flew The propagated rage; loud-vollied oaths,
Like thunder bursting from a cloud, gave signs
Of wrath awaked. Prompt fury soon supplied
With arms uncouth; tough well-season'd plants,
Weighty with lead infused, on either host
Fall thick and heavy; stools in pieces rent,
And chairs and forms and batter'd bowls are hurl'd
With fell intent; like bombs the bottles fly
Hissing in air, their sharp-edged fragments drench'd
In the warm spouting gore; heaps driven on heaps
Promiscuous lie. Tonsorio now advanced
On the rough edge of battle: his broad front
Beneath his shining helm secure, as erst
Was thine, Mambrino, stout Iberian knight!
Defied the rattling storm, that on his head
Fell innocent. A table's ragged frame
In his right hand he bore, Herculean club!
Crowds, push'd on crowds, before his potent arm
Fled ignominious; havock and dismay
Hung on their rear. Colin, a merry swain,
Blithe as the soaring lark, as sweet the strains
Of his soft warbling lips that whistling cheer
His labouring team, who toss their heads well pleased, In gaudy plumage deck'd, with stern disdain
Beheld this victor proud; his generous soul
Brook'd not the foul disgrace. High o'er his head His ponderous plough-staff in both hands he raised; Erect he stood, and stretching every nerve,
As from a forceful engine, down it fell
Upon his hollow'd helm, that yielding sunk
Beneath the blow, and with its sharpen'd edge
Shear'd both his ears; they on his shoulders broad
Hung ragged. Quick as thought the vigorous youth,
Shortening his staff, the other end he darts
Into his gaping jaws. Tonsorio fled
Sore maim'd; with pounded teeth and clotted gore
Half-choked, he fled; with him the host retired,
Companions of his shame; all but the stout,
And erst unconquer'd Hildebrand, brave man!
Bold champion of the hills! thy weighty blows
Our fathers felt dismay'd; to keep thy post
Unmoved, whilom thy valour's choice, now sad
Necessity compels; decrepit now
With age, and stiff with honourable wounds,
He stands unterrified; one crutch sustains
His frame majestick, the other in his hand
He wields tremendous; like a mountain boar
In toils enclosed, he dares his circling foes.
They shrink aloof, or soon with shame repent
The rash assault; the rustick heroes fall
In heaps around. Cuddy, a dextrous youth,
When force was vain, on fraudful art relied:
Close to the ground low-cowering, unperceived,
Cautious he crept, and with his crooked bill
Cut sheer the frail support, prop of his
Reeling a while he stood, and menaced fierce
The insidious swain; reluctant now at length
Fell prone, and plough'd the dust. So the tall oak,
Old monarch of the groves, that long had stood
The shock of warring winds, and the red bolts
Of angry Jove, shorn of his leafy shade
At last, and inwardly decay'd, if chance
The cruel woodman spy the friendly spur,
His only hold; that sever'd, soon he nods,
And shakes the incumber'd mountain as he falls.
When manly valour fail'd, a female arm
Restored the fight. As in the adjacent booth
Black Cindaraxa's busy hand prepared
The smoky viands, she beheld, abash'd,
The routed host, and all her dastard friends
Far scatter'd o'er the plain: their shameful flight
Grieved her proud heart, for, hurried with the stream,
E'en Talgol too had fled, her darling boy.
A flaming brand from off the glowing hearth
The greasy heroine snatch'd; o'er her pale foes
The threatening meteor shone, brandish'd in air,
Or round their heads in ruddy circles play'd.
Across the prostrate Hildebrand she strode,
Dreadfully bright: the multitude appall'd
Fled different ways, their beards, their hair in flames.
Imprudent she pursued, till on the brink
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