Crowdero making doleful face,
Like hermit poor in pensive place,
To dungeon they the wretch commit,
And the survivor of his feet;

But th'other that had broke the peace,
And head of Knighthood, they release,
Though a delinquent false and forged,
Yet b'ing a stranger he's enlarged,
While his comrade, that did no hurt,
Is clapp'd up fast in prison for't:
So justice, while she winks at crimes,
Stumbles on innocence sometimes.

THE ARGUMENT.

The scatter'd rout return and rally,
Surround the place: the Knight does salty,
And is made pris'ner: then they seize
Th' enchanted fort by storm, release
Crowdero, and put the Squire in 's place,
I should have first said Hudibras.

AY me! what perils do environ
The man that meddles with cold iron!
What plaguy mischiefs and mishaps
Do dog him still with after-claps!
For though dame Fortune seem to smile,
And leer upon him for a while

She'll after shew him, in the nick
Of all his glories, a dog-trick.
This any man may sing or say
I' th' ditty call'd, What if a Day?
For Hudibras, who thought he 'ad won
The field, as certain as a gun,

And having routed the whole troop,
With victory was cock-a-hoop,

Thinking he 'ad 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 cost,
He did but count without his host,
And that a turnstile is more certain
Than, in events of war, dame Fortune.

For now the late faint-hearted rout,
O'erthrown and scatter'd round about,
Chas'd by the horror of their fear
From bloody fray of Knight and Bear
(All but the Dogs, who in pursuit
Of the Knight's victory stood to 't,
And most ignobly fought to get
The honour of his blood and sweat),
Seeing the coast was free and clear
O' the conquer'd and the conqueror,
Took heart again, and fac'd about
As if they meant to stand it out:
For by this time the routed Bear,
Attack'd by th' enemy i' the rear,
Finding their number grew too great
For him to make a safe retreat,
Like a bold chieftain fac'd about;
But wisely doubting to hold out,

Gave way to fortune, and with haste Fac'd the proud foe, and fled, and fac'd, Retiring still, until he found

He 'ad got the advantage of the ground, And then as val'antly made head To check the foe, and forthwith fled, Leaving no art untry'd, nor trick Of warrior stout and politic, Until, in spite of hot pursuit, He gain'd a pass, to hold dispute On better terms, and stop the course Of the proud foe. With all his force He bravely charg'd, and for awhile Forc'd their whole body to recoil; But still their numbers so increas'd, He found himself at length oppress'd, And all evasions so uncertain, To save himself for better fortune, That he resolv'd, rather than yield, To die with honour in the field, And sell his hide and carcase at A price as high and desperate As e'er he could. This resolution He forthwith put in execution, . And bravely threw himself among The enemy, i' th' greatest throng: But what could single valour do Against so numerous a foe?

Yet much he did, indeed too much

To be believ'd, where th' odds were such;

But one against a multitude,

Is more than mortal can make good:
For while one party he oppos'd,
His rear was suddenly inclos'd,
And no room left him for retreat
Or fight against a foe so great.

For now the Mastives, charging home,
To blows and handy-gripes were come:
While manfully himself he bore,
And setting his right foot before,
He rais'd himself, to shew how tall
His person was above them all.
This equal shame and envy stirr'd
In th' enemy, that one should beard
So many warriors, and so stout,
As he had done, and stav'd it out,
Disdaining to lay down his arms,
And yield on honourable terms.
Enraged thus, some in the rear
Attack'd him, and some ev'ry where,
Till down he fell; yet falling fought,
And, being down, still laid about:
As Widdrington, in doleful dumps,
Is said to fight upon his stumps.

But all, alas! had been in vain,
And he inevitably slain,

If Trulla' and Cerdon in the nick
To rescue him had not been quick:
For Trulla, who was light of foot

As shafts which long-field Parthians shoot (But not so light as to be borne

Upon the ears of standing corn,
Or trip it o'er the water quicker

Than witches when their staves they liquor,
As some report), was got among
The foremost of the martial throng.

There pitying the vanquish'd Bear,
She called to Cerdon, who stood near,
Viewing the bloody fight; to whom,
Shall we (quoth she) stand still hum-drum,
And see stout Bruin, all alone,

By numbers basely overthrown!