Ev'n he who now each glorious palm displays,
In sullen silence views his batter'd limbs,
And sighs his vigour spent. Not so appall'd
Young Pastorel, for active strength renown'd:
Him Ida bore, a mountain shepherdess;
On the bleak woald the new-born infant lay,
Expos'd to winter snows, and northern blasts
Severe. As heroes old, who from great Jove
Derive their proud descent, so might he boast
His line paternal: but be thou, my Muse!
No leaky blab, nor painful umbrage give
To wealthy 'squire, or doughty knight, or peer
Of high degree. Him every shouting ring
In triumph crown'd, him every champion fear'd,
From Kiftsgate 1 to remotest Henbury .
High in the midst the brawny wrestler stands,
A stately towering object; the tough belt
Measures his ample breast, and shades around
His shoulders broad; proudly secure he kens
The tempting prize, in his presumptuous thought
Already gain'd; with partial look the crowd
Approve his claim. But Hobbinol, enrag'd
To see th' important gifts so cheaply won,
And uncontested honours tamely lost,
With lowly reverence thus accosts his queen.
"Fair goddess! be propitious to my vows;
Smile on thy slave, nor Hercules himself
Shall rob us of this palm: that boaster vain
Far other port shall learn." She, with a look
That piere'd his inmost soul, smiling applauds
His generous ardour, with aspiring hope
Distends his breast, and stirs the man within:
Yet much, alas! she fears, for much she loves.
So from her arms the Paphian queen dismiss'd
The warrior god on glorious slaughter bent,
Provok'd his rage, and with her eyes inflam'd
Her haughty paramour. Swift as the winds
Dispel the fleeting mists, at once he strips
His royal robes; and with a frown that chill'd
The blood of the proud youth, active he bounds
High o'er the heads of multitudes reclin'd:
But, as beseem'd one, whose plain honest heart,
Nor passion foul, nor malice dark as Hell,
But honour pure, and love divine, had fir'd,
His hand presenting, on his sturdy foe
Disdainfully he smiles; then, quick as thought,
With his left-hand the belt, and with his right
His shoulder seiz'd fast griping; his right-foot
Essay'd the champion's strength: but irin he stood,
Fix'd as a mountain-ash, and in his turn
Repaid the bold affront; his horny fist
Fast on his back he clos'd, and shook in air

The cumberous load. Nor rest, nor pause allow'd,
Their watchful eyes instruct their busy feet;
They pant, they heave; each nerve, each sinew's
strain'd,

Grasping they close, beneath each painful gripe
The livid tumours rise, in briny streams
The sweat distils, and from their batter'd shins
The clotted gore distains the beaten ground.
Fach swain his wish, each trembling nymph conceals
Her secret dread; while every panting breast
Alternate fears and hopes depress or raise.
Thus long in dubious scale the contest hung,
Till Pastorel, impatient of delay,
Collecting all his force, a furious stroke
At his left anele aim'd; 'twas death to fall,

1 Two hundreds in Clocestershire,

To stand impossible. O Ganderetta!
What borrours seize thy soul! on thy pale cheeks
The roses fade. But wavering long in air,
Nor firm on foot, nor as yet wholly fallen,
On his right knee he slip'd, and nimbly 'scap'd
The foul disgrace. Thus on the slacken'd rope
The wingy-footed artist, frail support!
Stands tottering; now in dreadful shrieks the crowd
Lament his sudden fate, and yield him lost:
He on his hams, or on his brawny rump,
Sliding secure, derides their vain distress.
Up starts the vigorous Hobbinol undismay'd,
From mother Earth like old Antæus rais'd
With might redoubled. Clamour and applaus●
Shake all the neighbouring hills, Avona's banks
Return him loud acclaim: with ardent eyes,
Fierce as a tiger rushing from his lair,
He grasp'd the wrist of his insulting foe.
Then with quick wheel oblique his shoulder point
Beneath his breast he fix'd, and whirl'd aloft
High o'er his head the sprawling youth he flung:
The hollow ground rebellow'd as he fell.
The crowd press forward with tumultuous din;
Those to relieve their faint expiring friend,
With gratulations these. Hands, tongues, and caps,
Outrageous joy proclaim, shrill fiddles squeak,
Hoarse bag-pipes roar, and Ganderetta smiles.

LONG while an universal hubbub loud,
Deafening each ear, had drown'd each accent mild ;
Till biting taunts and harsh opprobrions words
Vile utterance found. How weak are human minds!
How impotent to stem the swelling tide,
And without insolence enjoy success!
The vale-inhabitants, proud, and elate
With victory, know no restraint, but give
A loose to joy. Their champion Hobbinol
Vaunting they raise, above that earth-born race
Of giants old, who, piling hills on hills,
Pelion on Ossa, with rebellious aim
Made war on Jove. The sturdy mountaineers,
Who saw their mightiest fall'n, and in his fall
Their honours past impair'd, their trophies, won
By their proud fathers, who with scorn look'd down
Upon the subject Vale, sullied, despoil'd,
And level'd with the dust, no longer bear
The keen reproach. But as when sudden fire
Seizes the ripen'd grain, whose bending ears
Invite the reaper's hand, the furious god
In sooty triumph dreadful rides, upborn
On wings of wind, that with destructive breath
Feed the fierce flames; from ridge to ridge he bounds
Wide-wasting, and pernicious ruin spreads:

In ages yet to come, on festal days
Shall chant this mournful tale, while listening nymphs
Lament around, and every generous heart
With active valour glows, and virtuous love.
How blind is popular fury! how perverse,
When broils intestine rage, and force controls
Reason and law! As the torn vessel sinks,
Between the burst of adverse waves o'erwhelm'd;
So fares it with the neutral head, between
Contending parties bruis'd, incessant peal'd
With random strokes that undiscerning fall;
Guiltless he suffers most, who least offends.
Mundungo, from the bloody field retir'd,
Close in a corner plied the peaceful bowl;
Incurious he, and thoughtless of events,

Now deem'd himself conceal'd, wrapt in the cloud
That issued from his mouth, and the thick fogs
That hung upon his brows; but hostile rage
Inquisitive found out the rusty swain.

His short black tube down his furr'd throat impell'd,
Staggering he reel'd, and with tenacious gripe
The bulky jorden, that before him stood,
Seiz'd falling; that its liquid freight disgorg'd
Upon the prostrate clown; floundering he lay
Beneath the muddy beverage whelm'd, so late
His prime delight. Thus the luxurious wasp,
Voracious insect, by the fragrant dregs
Allur'd, and in the viscous nectar plung'd,
His filmy pennons struggling flaps in vain,
Lost in a flood of sweets. Still o'er the plain
Fierce onset, and tumultuous battle spread;
And now they fall, and now they rise, incens'd
With animated rage, while nought around
Is heard, but clamour, shout, and female cries,
And curses mix'd with groans. Discord on high
Shook her infernal scourge, and o'er their heads
Scream'd with malignant joy; when lo! between
The warring hosts appear'd sage Rhadamanth,
A knight of high renown. Nor Quixote bold,
Nor Amadis of Gaul, nor Hudibras,
Mirror of knighthood, e'er could vie with thee,
Great sultan of the vale! thy front severe,
As humble Indians to their pagods bow,
The clowns submiss approach. Themis to thee
Commits her golden balance, where she weighs
Th' abandon'd orphan's sighs, the widow's tears;
By thee gives sure redress, comforts the heart
Oppress'd with woe, and rears the suppliaut knee.
Each bold offender hides his guilty head,
Astonish'd, when thy delegated aim
Draws her vindictive sword; at thy command,
Stern minister of power supreme! each ward
Sends forth her brawny myrmidons, their clubs
Blazon'd with royal arms; dispatchful haste
Sits earnest on each brow, and public care.
Encompass'd round with these his dreadful guards,
He spar'd his sober steed, grizzled with age,
And venerably dull; his stirrups stretel'd
Pencath the knightly load; one hand he fix'd
Upon his saddle-bow, the other palm
Before him spread, like some grave orator
In Athens, or free Rome, when eloquence
Subdued mankind, and all the listening crowd
Hung by their cars on his persuasive tongue.
ife thus the jarring multitude address'd.

[flower

Neighbours, and friends, and countrymen, the Of Kiftsgate! ah! what means this impious broil? Is then the baughty Gaul no more your care Are Landen's pluing so soon forgot, that thus

Ye spill that blood inglorious, waste that strength,
Which, well employ'd, once more might have com-
The stripling Anjou to a shameful flight? [pell'd
Or, by your great forefathers taught, have fix'd
The British standard on Lutetian towers?
O sight odious, detestable! O times
Degenerate, of ancient honour void!
This fact so foul, so riotous, insults"

All law, all sovereign power, and calls aloud
For vengeance; but, my friends! too well ye know
How slow this arm to punish, and how bleeds
This heart, when forc'd on rigorous extremes.
O countrymen! all, all, can testify
My vigilance, my care for public good.

I am the man, who by your own free choice
Select from all the tribes, in senates rul'd
Each warm debate, and emptied all my stores
Of ancient science in my country's cause.
Wise Tacitus, of penetration deep,
Each secret spring reveal'd; Thuanus bold
Breath'd liberty, and all the mighty dead,
Rais'd at my call, the British rights confirm'd;
While Musgrave, How, and Seyinour sneer'd in vain.
I am the man, who from the bench exalt
This voice, still grateful to your ears, this voice
Which breathes for you alone. Where is the wretch
Distress'd, who in the cobwebs of the law
Entangled, and in subtle problems lost,
Seeks not to me for aid! In shoals they come
Neglected, feeless clients, nor return
Unedify'd; scarce greater multitudes
At Delphi sought the god, to learn their fate
From his dark oracles. I am the man,
Whose watchful providence beyond the date
Of this frail life extends, to future times
Beneficent; my useful schemes shall steer
The common-weal in ages yet to come.
Your children's children, taught by me, shall keep
Their rights inviolable: and as Rome
The Sibyl's sacred books, tho' wrote on leaves
And scatter'd o'er the ground, with pious awe
Collected; so your sons shall glean with care
My hell w'd fragments, every scrip divine
Consult intent, of more intrinsic worth
Than half a Vatican. Hear me, my friends!
Hear me, my countrymen! Oh suffer not
This boary head, employ'd for you alone,
To sink with sorrow to the grave." He spake,

As when

And yeild his bonnet to the crowd.
The sovereign of the floods o'er the rough deep
His awful trident shakes, is fury falls,
The warring billows on each hand retire,
And foam, and rage no more. All now is hush'd,
The multitude appeas'd; a chearful dawn
Smiles on the fields, the waving throng subsides,
And the loud tempest sinks, becalm'd in peace.

Gorgonius now with haughty strides advanc'd,
A gauntlet seiz'd, firm on his guard he stood
A formidable fe, and dealt in air
His empty blows, a prelude to the fight.
Slaughter his trade; full many a pamper'd ox
Feil by his fatal hand, the bulky beast
Dragg'd by his horns, oft at one deadly blow,
His iron first descending crush'd his skull,
And left him spurning on the bloody floor,
While at his feet the guiltless axe was laid.
In dubious fight of late one eye he lost,
Bor'd from its orb, and the next glancing stroke
Brais'd wore the rising arch, and bent his nose :

Nathless he triumph'd on the well-fought stage,
Hockleian hero! Nor was more deform'd
The Cyclops blind, nor of more monstrous size,
Nor his void orb more dreadful to behold,
Weeping the putrid gore, severe revenge
Of subtle Ithacus. Terribly gay

In his buff doublet, larded o'er with fat

Of slaughter'd brutes, the well-oil'd champion shone.
Sternly he gaz'd around, with many a frown
Fierce menacing, provok'd the tardy foe.
For now each combatant, that erst so bold
Vaunted his manly deeds, in pensive mood
Hung down his head, and fix'd on earth his eyes,
Pale and dismay'd. On Hobbinol at last
Intent they gaze, in him alone their hope,
Each eye solicits him, each panting heart
Joins in the silent suit. Soon he perceiv'd
Their secret wish, and eas'd their doubting minds.
"Ye men of Kiftsgate! whose wide spreading fame
In ancient days were sung from shore to shore,
To British bards of old a copious theme;
Too well, alas! in your pale cheeks I view
Your dastard souls. O mean, degenerate race;
But since on me ye call, each suppliant eye
Invites my sovereign aid, lo! here I come,
The bulwark of your fame, tho' scarce my brows
Are dry from glorious toils, just now achiev'd,
To vindicate your worth.
Lo! here I swear,
By all my great forefathers' fair renown,
By that illustrious wicker, where they sat
In comely pride, and in triumphant sloth
Gave law to passive clowns; or on this spot
In glory's prime, young Hobbinol expires,
And from his dearest Ganderetta's arms
Sinks to Death's cold embrace; or by this hand
That stranger, big with insolence, shall fall
Prone on the ground, and do your honour right."
Forthwith the hilts he seiz'd; but on his arm
Fond Ganderetta hung, and round his neck
Curl'd in a soft embrace. Honour and love
A doubtful contest wag'd, but from her soon
He sprung relentless, all her tears were vain,
Yet oft he turn'd, oft sigh'd, thus pleasing mild :
"Ill should I merit these imperial robes,
Ensigns of majesty, by general voice
Conferr'd, should pam, or death itself, avail
To shake the steady purpose of my soul.
Peace, fair-one! peace! Heaven will protect the
By thee held dear, and crown thy generous love.”
Her from the listed field the matrons sage
Reluctant drew, and with fair speeches sooth'd.
Now front to front the fearless champions meet;
Gorgonius, like a tower, whose cloudy top
Invades the skies, stood lowermg; far beneath
The strippling Hobbinol with careful eye
Each opening scans, and each unguarded space
Measures intent. While, negligently bold,
The bulky combatant, whose heart elate
Disdain'd his puny foe, now fondly deem'd
At one decisive stroke to win, unhurt,
An easy victory; down came at once
The ponderous plant, with fell malicious rage,
Aim'd at his head direct; but the tough hilts,
Swift interpos'd, elude his effort vain.
The cautious Hobbinol, with ready feet,

Now shifts his ground, retreating : then again
Advances bold, and his unguarded shins
Batters secure : each well-directed blow,
Bites to the quick, thick as the falling hail,

[man

The strokes redoubled peal his hollow sides:
The multitude, amaz'd with horror, view
The rattling storm, shrink back at every blow,
And seem to feel his wounds; inl, he groan'd,
And gnash'd his teeth, and from his blood-shot eye
Ped lightning flash'd; the fierce tumultuous rage
Shook all his mighty fabric. Once again
Erect he stands, collected, and resolv'd
To conquer, or to die: swift as the bolt
Of angry Jove, the weighty plant descends:
But wary Hobbinol, whose watchful eye
Perceiv'd his kind intent, slip'd on one side
Declining; the vain stroke from such an height,
With such a force impell'd, headlong drew down
Th' unwieldy champion: on the solid ground
He fell rebounding breathless, and astana'd,
His trunk extended lay; sore maim'd from out
His heaving breast, he belch'd a crimson flood.
Full leisurely he
rose, but conscious shame

Of honour lost his failing strength renew'd.
Rage, and revenge, and ever-during hate,
Blacken'd his stormy front; rash, furious, blind,
And lavish of his blood, of random strokes
He laid on load; without design or art
Onward he press'd outrageous, while his foe
Encircling wheels, or inch by inch retires,
Wise niggard of his strength. Yet all thy care,
O Hobbinol; avail'd not to prevent

One hapless blow; o'er his strong guard the plant
Lapp'd pliant, and its knotty point impress'd
His nervous chine! he wreath'd him to and fro
Convolv'd, yet, thus distress'd, intrepid bore
His hilts aloft, and guarded well his head.
So when th' unwary clown, with hasty step,
Crushes the folded snake, her wounded parts
Groveling she trails along, but her high crest.
Erect she bears; in all its speckled pride,
She swells inflam'd, and with her forky tongus
Threatens destruction. With like eager hast,
Th' impatient Hobbinol, who'n excessive pain
Stung to his heart, a speedy vengeance vow'd,
Nor wanted long the means; a feint he made
With well-dissembled guile, his batter'd shins
Mark'd with his eyes, and meuae'd with his plant.
Gorgonius, whose long suffering legs scarce bore
His cumbrous bulk, to his supporters frail
Indulgent, soon the friendly hits oppos'd;'
Betray'd, deceiv'd, on his unguarded crest
The stroke delusive fell; a dismal groan
Burst from his hollow chest; his trembling hands
Forsook the hilts, across the spacious ring
Backward he recl'd, the crowd affrighted fly
T'escape the falling ruin. But, alas!
'Twas thy hard fate, Twangdillo! to receive
His ponderous trunk; on thee, on helpless thee,
Headlong and heavy, the fond monster fell.
Beneath a mountain's weight, th' unhappy bard
Lay prostrate, nor was more renown'd thy song,
O seer of Thrace! nor more severe thy fate.
His vocal shell, the solace and support
Of wretched age, gave one melodious scream,
And in a thousand fragments strew'd the plain.
The nymphs, sure friends to his harmonious mirth,
Fly to his aid, his hairy breast expese

To each refreshing gale, and with soft hands
His temples chafe; at their persuasive touch
His fleeting soul returns; upon his rump
He sat disconsolate; but when, alas!
He view'd the shatter'd fragments, down again