Through perils both of wind and limb,
Through thick and thin fhe follow'd him,
In ev'ry adventure h' undertook,
And never him or it forfook.
At breach of wall, or hedge furprise,
She fhar'd i' th' hazard and the prize;
At beating quarters up, or forage,
Behav'd herself with matchlefs courage,
To fight like termagants and Turks:
To lay their native arms afide,
Their modefty, and ride aftride;
To run a-tilt at men, and wield
Their naked tools in open field;
As ftout Armida, bold Thaleftris,
And fhe that would have been the mistress
Of Gundibert; but he had grace,
And rather took a country-lafs :
They fay 'tis falfe without all fenfe,
But of pernicious confequence
To government, which they fuppofe
Can never be upheld in profe;
Strip Nature naked to the skin,
You'll find about her no fuch thing.
It may be fo; yet what we tell
Of Trulla that's improbable,
Shall be depos'd by thofe have feen't,'
Or what's as good, produc'd in print :
And if they will not take our word,
We'll prove it true upon record.
The upright Cerdon next advanc'd,
Of all his race the valiant'ft:
Cerdon the Great, renown'd in fong,
Like Herc'les, for repair of wrong:
He rais'd the low, and fortify'd
The weak against the strongest fide:
Ill has he read, that never hit
On him in Mufes deathlefs writ.
He had a weapon keen and fierce,
That through a bull-hide hield would pierce,
And cut it in a thoufand pieces,
For well-foal'd boots, no less than fights;
Learned he was, and could take note,
Tranfcribe, collect, tranflate, and quote.
But preaching was his chiefeft talent,
Or argument, in which b'ing valiant,
He us'd to lay about and stickle,
Like ram or bull at conventicle:
For difputants, like rams and bulls,
Do fight with arms that fpring from fculls. 440
Laft Colon came, bold man of war,
Deftin'd to blows by fatal ftar;
Right expert in command of horse,
But cruel and without remorse.
That which of Centaur long ago
Was faid, and has been wrefted to
Some other knights, was true of this,
He and his horfe were of a piece.
One fpirit did inform them both,
The felf-fame vigour, fury, wroth:
Yet he was much the rougher part,
And always had a harder heart;
Although the horfe had been of thofe
That fed on man's flesh, as fame goes;
Strange food for horfe! and yet, alas,
It may be true; for flesh is grafs.
Sturdy he was, and no lefs able
Than Hercules to clean a ftable:
As great a drover, and as great
A critic too, in hog or neat.
He ript the womb up of his mother,
Dame Tellus, 'caufe fhe wanted fother
And provender wherewith to feed
Himfelf, and his lefs cruel steed.
+F
It was a queftion whether he
Or's horfe were of a family
More worshipful: till antiquaries
(After they'd almost por'd out their eyes) Did very learnedly decide
The bus'nefs on the hoife's fide,
And prov'd not only horfe, but cows,
Nay pigs, were of the elder houfe:
For beafts, when man was but a piece
Of earth himfelf, did th' earth poffefs.
Thefe worthies were the chief that led
The combatants, each in the head
Of his command, with arms and rage,
Ready and longing to engage.
The num'rous rabble was drawn out
Of fev'ral counties round about,
From villages remote, and hires,
Of eaft and western hemifpheres:
From foreign parishes and regions,
Of diff'rent manners, fpeech, religions,
Came men and maftiffs; fome to fight
For fame and honour, fome for fight.
And now the field of death, the lifts
Were enter'd by antagonists,
And blood was ready to be broach'd;
When Hudibras in hafte approach'd,
With Squire and weapons to attack 'em:
But first thus from his horse bespake 'em.
What rage, O citizens ! what fury
Doth you to these dire actions hurry?
What frum, what phrenetic mood
Makes you thus lavish of your blood,
While the proud Vies your trophies boat,
And unreveng'd walks-----ghoft ?
What towns what garrifons might you
With hazard of this blood fubdue,
Which now y'are bent to throw away
In vain, untriumphable fray?
Shall faints in civil bloodfhed wallow
Of faints, and let the cause ly fallow?
The caufe, for which we fought and fwore 505
So boldly, fhall we now give o'er ?
Then, becaufe quarrels ftill are feen
With oaths and fwearings to begin,
The folemn league and covenant
Will feem a mere God-damn-me-rant ;
And we that took it, and have fought
As lewd as drunkards that fall out:
For as we make war for the King
Against himself, the self-same thing,
Some will not ftick to fwear we do
Are thefe the fruits o' th' proteftation,
The prototype of reformation,
Which all the faints, and fome, fince martyrs,
Wore in their hats like wedding-garters,
When 'twas refolv'd by either house
Six members' quarrel to efpoufe?
Did they for this draw down the rabble,
With zeal and noifes formidable,
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