And fet you down in fafety, where
It is no time to tell you here.
The cock crows, and the morn draws on,
When 'tis decreed I must be gone;
And if I leave you here till day,
You'll find it hard to get away.
With that the spirit grop'd about
To find th' enchanted hero out,
And try'd with hafte to lift him
But found his forlorn hope, his crup,
Unferviceable with kicks and blows,
Receiv'd from harden'd-hearted foes.
He thought to drag him by the heels,
Like Grefham-carts, with legs for wheels;
But fear, that fooneft cures those fores,
In danger of relapse to worse,
Came in t'affift him with its aid,
And up his finking veffel weigh'd.
No fooner was he fit to trudge,
But both made ready to dislodge;
The spirit hors'd him like a fack,
Upon the vehicle his back,
And bore him headlong into th' hall,
With some few rubs against the wall;
Where, finding out the postern lock'd,
And th' avenues as ftrongly block'd,
H'attack'd the window, storm'd the glass,
And in a moment gain'd the pass;
Thro' which he dragg'd the worsted soldier's
Fore-quarters out by th' head and shoulders,
And cautiously began to scout
To find their fellow-cattle out;
Nor was it half a minute's quest,
Ere he retriev❜d the champion's beast,
Ty'd to a pale, instead of rack,
But ne'er a faddle on his back,
Nor pistols at the faddle bow,
Convey'd away, the lord knows how.
He thought it was no time to stay,
And let the night too steal away;
But, in a trice, advanc'd the Knight
Upon the bare ridge, bolt upright,
And, groping out for Ralpho's jade,
He found the faddle too was stray'd,
And in the place a lump of soap,
On which he speedily leap'd up ;
And, turning to the gate the rein,
He kick'd and cudgell'd on amain;
While Hudibras, with equal haste,
On both fides laid about as fast,
And spurr'd, as jockies use, to break,
Or padders to fecure, a neck :
Where let us leave 'em for a time,
And to their churches turn our rhyme ;
To hold forth their declining state,
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