For Hudibras, who thought h' had won
The Field as certain as a Gun,

And having routed the whole Troop,
With Victory was Cock-a-hoop;

Thinking h' had done enough to purchase,
Thanksgiving-day among the Churches,
Wherein his Mettle and brave Worth
Might be explain'd by Holder-forth,
And Register'd by Fame Eternal,
In Deathless Pages of Diurnal:
Found in few minutes to his Coft,
He did but Count without his Hoft;
And that a Turn ftile is more certain,
Than in events of War Daine Fortune.

For now the late faint-hearted Rout,
O'erthrown and fcatter'd round about,
Chac'd by the Horror of their Fear
From bloudy Fray of Knight and Bear,
(All but the Dogs who in pursuit,
Of the Knight's Victory flood to't,
And most ignobly fought to get

A

T

The Honour of his Bloud and Sweat)

Seeing the Coaft was free and clear
O'th' Conquer'd and the Conquerer,
Took heart again and fac'd about,
As if they meant to ftand it out :
For by this time the routed Bear
Attack'd by th' Enemy i' th' Rear,
Finding their Number grew too great
For him to make a safe Retreat,
Like a bold Chieftain fac'd about

But wifely doubting to hold out,
Gave way to Fortune, and with hafte
Fac'd the proud Foe, and fled, and fac'd,
Retiring ftill, until he found

H' had got th' advantage of the Ground;
And then as valiantly made head,

To check the Foe, and forthwith fled;
Leaving no Art untry'd, nor Trick
Of Warrior ftout and Politick;
Untill in fpight of hot Pursuit,
He gain'd a Pass, to hold difpute,
On better terms, and ftop the course
Of the proud Foe. With all his force

He bravely charg'd, and for a while
Forc'd their whole Body to recoil

But ftill their numbers fo increaft
He found himself at length oppreft,
And all Evafions fo uncertain,
To fave himself for better Fortune;
That he refolv'd, rather than yield,
To die with Honour in the field,
And fell his Hide and Carcafs at
A price as high and desperate

As e'er he could. This Refolution
He forthwith put in Execution,
And bravely threw himself among
The Enemy i' th' greatest Throng.

But what could fingle Valour do
Against fo numerous a Foe?

Yet much he did, indeed too much

To be believ'd, where th' Odds was fuch:
But one against a Multitude,

Is more than Mortal can make good,
For while one Party he oppos'd,

His Rear was fuddainly enclos❜d,

And

part 1, page 102,