Vowing, that he should ne'er stir further, 780 And 'twixt the spring and hammer thrust Instead of shield, the blow receiv'd. The gun recoil'd as well it might, Not us'd to such a kind of fight, 790 And shrunk from its great master's gripe, Knock'd down and stunn'd with mortal stripe. Then Hudibras, with furious haste, Drew out his sword; but not so fast, But Talgol first with hardy thwack 795 Twice bruis'd his head, and twice his back. With stomach huge he laid about, 800 To guard its leader from fell bane, And then reveng'd itself again. And though the sword, some understood, 805 In force had much the odds of wood, 'Twas nothing so; both sides were balanc'd So equal, none knew which was valiant'st: For wood with honour b'ing engag'd, Is so implacably enrag'd; Though iron hew and mangle sore, Wood wounds and bruises honour more. And now both knights were out of breath, Whilst all the rest amaz'd stood still, One body, and that into one blow. Had slit, as sure as that below. 810 815 820 Meanwhile th' incomparable Colon, 825 To aid his friend began to fall on: VOL. I. K Him Ralph encounter'd, and straight grew A dismal combat 'twixt them two; Th' one arm'd with metal, th' other with wood, This fit for bruise, and that for blood. 830 With many a stiff thwack, many a bang, Perform'd what force could ne'er attain; 840 845 850 Instead of which, he threw the pack gave This Talgol viewing, who had now He rally'd, and again fell to 't; For catching foe by nearer foot, He lifted with such might and strength, As would have hurl'd him thrice his length, But Mars, that still protects the stout, In pudding-time came to his aid, And under him the Bear convey'd; The Bear upon whose soft fur-gown The Knight with all his weight fell down. The friendly rug preserv'd the ground, 860 865 And headlong Knight, from bruise or wound; 870 Like feather-bed betwixt a wall, And heavy brunt of cannon-ball. As Sancho on a blanket fell, And had no hurt; ours far'd as well In body, though his mighty spirit, B'ing heavy, did not so well bear it. 875 880 885 From squelch of Knight, and storm'd and rav'd, And vex'd the more, because the harms He felt were 'gainst the law of arms; For men he always took to be His friends, and dogs his enemy, 890 Who never so much hurt had done him, As his own side did falling on him; It griev'd him to the guts, that they For whom h' had fought so many a fray, And serv'd him with loss of blood so long, 895 Should offer such inhuman wrong; Wrong of unsoldier-like condition, For which he flung down his commission; |