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
He 'ad got th' 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 ftout and politick,
Until, in fpite of hot pursuit,
He gain'd a pass, to hold dispute
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 increas'd,
He found himself at length oppress'd,
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 carcafe at
A price as high and defperate
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 so numerous a foe?
Yet much he did, indeed too much
To be believ'd, where th' odds were fuch
But one against a multitude,
Is more than mortal can make good:
For while one party he oppos'd,
His rear was fuddenly inclos'd,
And no room left him for retreat,
Or fight, against a foe fo great.
For now the Mastives, charging home,
To blows and handy-gripes were come;
While manfully himself he bore,
And, fetting his right foot before,
He rais'd himself to fhew how tall
His perfon was above them all.
This equal fhame and envy stirr'd
In th' enemy, that one fhould beard
So many warriors, and fo ftout,
As he had done, and stav'd it out,
Difdaining to lay down his arms,
And yield on honourable terms.
Enraged thus, fome in the rear
Attack'd him, and fome every where,
Till down he fell; yet falling fought,
And, being down, still laid about;
As Widdrington, in doleful dumps,
Is faid 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 fhafts which long-field Parthians shoot
(But not fo light as to be borne
Upon the ears of standing corn,
Or trip it o'er the water quicker
Than witches, when their ftaves they liquor,
As fome report) was got among
The foremost of the martial throng;
There pitying the vanquish'd Bear,
She call'd to Cerdon, who stood near,
Viewing the bloody fight; to whom,
Shall we (quoth she) stand still bum-drum,
And fee ftout Bruin, all alone,
By numbers bafely overthrown ?
Such feats already he 'as atchiev'd,
In ftory not to be believ'd,
And 'twould to us be fhame enough,
Not to attempt to fetch him off.
Ver. 102.] As Shafts which long-field Parthians Shoot. Thus it ftands in the two first editions of 1663, and, I believe, in all the other editions to this time. Mr. Warburton is of opinion, that long-filed would be more proper; as the Parthians were ranged in long files, a difpofition proper for their manner of fighting, which was by fudden retreats and fudden charges. Mr. Smith, of Harleston, in Norfolk, thinks that the following alteration of the line would be an improvement;
As long-field fhafts, which Parthians shoot.
I would (quoth he) venture a limb
To fecond thee, and refcue him;
But then we must about it straight,
Or elfe our aid will come too late;
Quarter he fcorns, he is fo ftout,
And therefore cannot long hold out.
This faid, they wav'd their weapons round
About their heads to clear the ground,
And, joining forces, laid about
So fiercely, that th' amazed rout
Turn'd tail again, and straight begun,
As if the devil drove, to run.
Meanwhile they' approach'd the place where Bruin
Was now engag'd to mortal ruin :
The conquering foe they foon affail'd,
First Trulla ftav'd, and Cerdon tail'd,
Until their Maftives loos'd their hold:
And yet, alas! do what they could,
The worfted Bear came off with store
Of bloody wounds, but all before :
For as Achilles, dipt in pond,
Was anabaptiz'd free from wound,
Made proof against dead-doing fteel
All over, but the Pagan heel;
Is half the coin) in battle par'd
Clofe to his head, fo Bruin far'd;
But tugg'd and pull'd on th' other fide,
Like scrivener newly crucify'd:
Or like the late-corrected leathern
Ears of the circumcifed brethren.
But gentle Trulla into th' ring
He wore in 's nofe convey'd a ftring,
With which the march'd before, and led
The warrior to a graffy bed,
As authors write, in a cool fhade,
<Which eglantine and roses made;
Clofe by a foftly murmuring ftream,
Where lovers us'd to loli and dream:
There leaving him to his repose,
Secured from pursuit of foes,
And wanting nothing but a fong,
And a well-tun'd theorbo hung
Upon a bough, to ease the pain
His tugg'd ears fuffer'd, with a strain
They both drew up, to march in quest
Of his great leader and the reft.
For Orfin (who was more renown'd
For ftout maintaining of his ground,
In ftanding fight, than for pursuit,
As being not fo quick of foot)
Was not long able to keep pace
With others that pursued the chace,
But found himself left far behind,
Both out of heart and out of wind;
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