So learn'd Taliacotius from
The brawny part of porter's bum
Cut supplemental noses, which
Would last as long as parent breech;
But when the date of nock was out,
Off dropp'd the sympathetic snout.

His back, or rather burthen, shew'd
As if it stoop'd with its own load:
For as Æneas bore his sire
Upon his shoulders thro' the fire,
Our Knight did bear no less a pack
Of his own buttocks on his back;
Which now had almost got the upper-
Hand of his head, for want of crupper.
To poise this equally, he bore

A paunch of the same bulk before;
Which still he had a special care

To keep well cramm'd with thrifty fare;

As white-pot, butter-milk, and curds,
Such as a country-house affords;

With other vittle, which anon

We farther shall dilate upon,

285

290

295

300

281. Taliacotius was an Italian surgeon, that found

out a way to repair lost and decayed noses.

This Taliacotius was chiet surgeon to the great duke of Tuscany, and wrote a treatise, De Curtis Membris, which he dedicates to his great master; wherein he not only declares the models of his wonderful operations in restoring of lost members, but gives you cuts of the very instruments and ligatures he made use of therein; from hence our author (cum poetica licentia) has taken his simile.

289. Æneas was the son of Anchises and Venus; a Trojan, who after long travels, came to Italy, and after the death of his father-in-law, Latinus, was made king of Latium, and reigned three years. His story is too long to insert here, and therefore I refer you to Virgil's Eneids. Troy being laid in ashes, he took his aged father Anchises upon his back, and rescued him from his enemies. But being too solicitous for his son and household gods, he lost his wife Creusa; which Mr. Dryden, in his excellent translation, thus expresseth:

Haste, my dear father ('tis no time to wait,)
And load my shoulders with a willing freight.
Whate'er befals, your life shall be my care;
One death, or one deliv'rance, we will share.
My hand shall lead our little son; and you,
My faithful consort, shall our steps pursue.

When of his hose we come to treat,
The cupboard where he kept his meat.

His doublet was of sturdy buff,

And though not sword, yet cudgel proof;
Whereby 'twas fitter for his use,

Who fear'd no blows, but such as bruise.
His breeches were of rugged woollen,
And had been at the siege of Bullen;

305

910

For warriors that delight in blood.
For, as we said, he always chose
To carry vittle in his hose,

That often tempted rats and mice
The ammunition to surprise :

320

And when he put a hand but in

The one or t' other magazine,

They stoutly in defence on't stood,

And from the wounded foe drew blood;

And till th' were storm'd and beaten out, 325

Ne'er left the fortify'd redoubt.

And tho' knights-errant, as some think,

Of old did neither eat nor drink,

Round table like a farthingal,

On which, with shirt pull'd out behind,
And eke before, his good knights din'd.

340

337. Who this Arthur was, and whether any ever reigned in Britain, has been doubted heretofore, and is by some to this very day However, the history of him, which makes him one of the nine worthies of the world, is a subject sufficient for the poet to be pleasant upon.

Though 'twas no table, some suppose,
But a huge pair of round trunk hose;
In which he carry'd as much meat
As he and all the knights could eat,

344

When, laying by their swords and truncheons,
They took their breakfasts, or their nuncheons.
But let that pass at present, lest

We should forget where we digrest,
As learned authors use, to whom
We leave it, and to th' purpose come.
His puissant sword unto his side,
Near his undaunted heart, was ty'd;
With basket-hilt, that would hold broth,
And serve for fight and dinner both.
In it he melted lead for bullets,

350

355

To shoot at foes, and sometimes pullets,

To whom he bore so fell a grutch,

He ne'er gave quarter t' any such.

The trenchant blade, Toledo trusty,

For want of fighting, was grown rusty,
And ate into itself, for lack

360

Of somebody to hew and hack.

The peaceful scabbard where it dwelt
The rancour of its edge had felt;

For of the lower end two handful

365

It had devoured, 'twas so manful;
And so much scorn'd to lurk in case,
As if it durst not shew its face.
In many desperate attempts,

Of warrants, exigents, contempts,

370

It had appear'd with courage bolder

Than Serjeant Bum invading shoulder.

Oft had it ta'en possession,

And pris'ners too, or made them run.

This sword a dagger had t' his page,

375

That was but little for his age;
And therefore waited on him so,
As dwarfs upon knights-errant do.

359. The capital city of New Castile, in Spain, with an archbishopric and primacy It was very famous, amongst other things, for tempering the best metal for swords, as Damascus was, and perhaps may be still.

380

It was a serviceable dudgeon,
Either for fighting or for drudging.
When it had stabb'd, or broke a head,
It would scrape trenchers, or chip bread;
Toast cheese or bacon; tho' it were
To bait a mouse-trap, 'twould not care.
"Twould make clean shoes; and in the earth 385
Set leeks and onions, and so forth.
It had been 'prentice to a brewer,
Where this and more it did endure;
But left the trade, as many more,
Have lately done on the same score.
In th' holsters, at his saddle-bow,
Two aged pistols he did stow,
Among the surplus of such meat
As in his hose he could not get.

390

These would inveigle rats with th' scent, 395 To forage when the cocks were bent:

And sometimes catch 'em with a snap

As cleverly as th' ablest trap.

They were upon hard duty still,

And ev'ry night stood sentinel,

To guard the magazine i' the hose

From two-legg'd and from four-legg'd foes.
Thus clad and fortify'd, Sir Knight
From peaceful home set forth to fight.
But first with nimble, active force
He got on th' outside of his horse;
For having but one stirrup ty'd
This saddle, on the farther side,
It was so short h' had much ado
To reach it with his desp'rate toe:

400

405

410

But after many strains and heaves,

He got up to the saddle-eaves,

From whence he vaulted into th' seat,

With so much vigour, strength, and heat,

That he had almost tumbled over

415

With his own weight, but did recover,

By laying hold on tail and mane,

Which oft he us'd instead of rein.

389. Oliver Cromwell and Colonel Pride had been both brewer.

But now we talk of mountain steed,
Before we farther do proceed,
It doth behove us to say something
Of that which bore our valiant bumpkin.
The beast was sturdy, large, and tall,
With mouth of meal, and eyes of wall.
I would say eye; for h' had but one,
As most agree; tho' some say none.
He was well stay'd; and in his gait
Preserv'd a grave majestic state.
At spur or switch no more he skept,
Or mended pace than Spaniard whipt;
And yet so fiery he would bound
As if he griev'd to touch the ground:
That Cæsar's horse, who as fame goes
Had corns upon his feet and toes,

420

425

430

Was not by half so tender hooft,

435

Nor trod upon the ground so soft.

And as that beast would kneel and stoop

(Some write) to take his rider up,

So Hudibras his ('tis well known)

Would often do to set him down.
We shall not need to say what lack

440

Of leather was upon his back;

For that was hidden under pad,

And breech of Knight, gall'd full as bad.

His strutting ribs on both sides shew'd

445

Like furroughs he himself had plow'd;
For underneath the skirt of pannel,
'Twixt ev'ry two there was a channel.
His draggling tail hung in the dirt,

Which on his rider he would flirt,

450

Still as his tender side he prick'd,

With arm'd heel, or with unarm'd, kick'd;

For Hudibras wore but one spur;

As wisely knowing, could he stir

455

To active trot one side of 's borse,
The other would not hang an arse.

A squire he had, whose name was Ralph,
That in th' adventure went his half:

433. Julius Cæsar had a horse with feet like a man's. 'Utebatur equo insigni; pedibus prope humanis, et in modum digitorum ungulis fissis. Suet, in Jul. cap. 61.