Vowing, that he should ne'er stir further,
Nor henceforth cow or bullock murther.
But Pallas came in shape of rust,

780

And 'twixt the spring and hammer thrust
Her Gorgon shield, which made the cock
Stand stiff, as 'twere transform'd to stock.
Mean-while fierce Talgol, gath'ring might, 785
With rugged truncheon charg'd the Knight;
But he with petronel upheav'd,

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.
But when his nut-brown sword was out,

With stomach huge he laid about,
Imprinting many a wound upon
His mortal foe, the truncheon;
The trusty cudgel did oppose
Itself against dead-doing blows,

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,
Tir'd in the hot pursuit of death;

Whilst all the rest amaz'd stood still,
Expecting which should take or kill.
This Hudibras observ'd; and fretting,
Conquest should be so long a getting.
He drew up all his force into

One body, and that into one blow.
But Talgol wisely avoided it
By cunning sleight; for had it hit,
The upper part of him the 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;
For he, by foul hap, having found
Where thistles grew on barren ground,
In haste he drew his weapon out,
And having cropt them from the root,
He clapp'd them underneath the tail
Of steed, with pricks as sharp as nail.
The angry beast did straight resent
The wrong done to his fundament;
Began to kick, and fling, and wince,
As if h' had been beside his sense,
Striving to disengage from thistle
That gall'd him sorely under his tail:

840

845

850

Instead of which, he threw the pack
Of Squire and baggage from his back;
And blund'ring still, with smarting rump
He the Knight's steed such a thump
As made him reel. The Knight did stoop, 855
And sat on further side aslope.

gave

This Talgol viewing, who had now
By sleight escap'd the fatal blow,

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,
And dash'd his brains (if any) out;

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.
The Bear was in a greater fright,
Beat down and worsted by the Knight.
He roar'd, and rag'd, and flung about,
To shake off bondage from his snout.
His wrath inflam'd, boil'd o'er, and from
His jaws of death he drew the foam;
Fury in stranger postures threw him,
And more than ever herald drew him:
He tore the earth which he had sav'd

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;