Of all his foes remain but one,
He snatched his weapon that lay near him
And from the ground began to rear him,
Vowing to make Crowdero pay
For all the rest that ran away.
But Ralpho now, in colder blood,
His fury mildly thus withstood:
'Great Sir,' quoth he, 'your mighty spirit
Is raised too high; this slave does merit
To be the hangman's business, sooner
Than from your hand to have the honour
Of his destruction; I that am
A nothingness in deed and name,
Did scorn to hurt his forfeit carcase,
Or ill entreat his fiddle or case:
Will you, great Sir, that glory blot
In cold blood, which you gained in hot?
Will you employ your conquering sword.
To break a fiddle, and your word?
For though I fought and overcame,
And quarter gavę, 'twas in your name:
For great commanders always own
What's prosperous by the soldier done.
To save, when you have power to kill,
1050 Argues your power above your will;
And that your will and power have less
Than both might have of selfishness.
This power which, now alive, with dread
He trembles at, if he were dead,
1055 Would no more keep the slave in awe,
Than if you were a knight of straw;
For death would then be his conqueror,
Not you, and free him from that terror,
If danger from his life accrue,
1060 Or honour from his death, to you
'Twere policy and honour too,
To do as you resolved to do:
But, Sir, 'twould wrong your valour much
To say it needs, or fears a crutch.
1065 Great conquerors greater glory gain
By foes in triumph led, than slain:
The laurels that adorn their brows
Are pulled from living not dead boughs,
And living foes: the greatest fame
1070 Of cripples slain can be but lame:
One half of him's already slain,
The other is not worth your pain;
Th' honour can but on one side light,
As worship did, when y' were dubbed knight.
Wherefore I think it better far
To keep him prisoner of war;
And let him fast in bonds abide,
At court of justice to be tried ;
Where if h' appear so bold or crafty,
1080 There may be danger in his safety:
If any member there dislike
His face, or to his beard have pique ·
Or if his death will save, or yield
Revenge or fright, it is revealed,
1085 Though he has quarter, ne'ertheless
Y' have power to hang him when you please;
This has been often done by some
Of our great conquerors, you know whom ;
And has by most of us been held
1090 Wise justice, and to some revealed:
For words and promises, that yoke
The conqueror, are quickly broke;
Like Samson's cuffs, though by his own
Direction and advice put on.
For if we should fight for the Cause
By rules of military laws,
And only do what they call just,
The Cause would quickly fall to dust.
This we among ourselves may speak;
1100 But to the wicked or the weak
We must be cautious to declare Perfection-truths, such as these are.' This said, the high outrageous mettle Of knight began to cool and settle. 1105 He liked the squire's advice, and soon Resolved to see the business done; And therefore charged him first to bind Crowdero's hands on rump behind, And to its former place, and use, 1110 The wooden member to reduce; But force it take an oath before, Ne'er to bear arms against him more. Ralpho despatched with speedy haste, And having tied Crowdero fast,
He 1115 gave sir knight the end of cord,
To lead the captive of his sword
In triumph, while the steeds he caught, And them to further service brought. The squire in state rode on before, 1120 And on his nut-brown whinyard bore The trophy-fiddle and the case, Leaning on shoulder like a mace. The knight himself did after ride, Leading Crowdero by his side;
1125 And towed him, if he lagged behind, Like boat against the tide and wind. Thus grave and solemn they march on,
Until quite through the town they 'ad gone; At further end of which there stands 1130 An ancient castle, that commands
Th' adjacent parts; in all the fabric
You shall not see one stone nor a brick,
But all of wood, by powerful spell
Of magic made impregnable:
There's neither iron-bar nor gate,
Portcullis, chain, nor bolt, nor grate;
And yet men durance there abide,
In dungeon scarce three inches wide;
With roof so low, that under it
1140 They never stand, but lie or sit;
And yet so foul, that whoso is in,
Is to the middle-leg in prison;
In circle magical confined,
With walls of subtle air and wind, Which none are able to break thorough, Until they're freed by head of borough. Thither arrived, th' adventurous knight And bold squire from their steeds alight At th' outward wall, near which there stands 1150 A Bastile, built t' imprison hands;
By strange enchantment made to fetter
The lesser parts, and free the greater:
For tho' the body may creep through,
The hands in grate are fast enow:
And when a circle 'bout the wrist
Is made by beadle exorcist,
The body feels the spur and switch,
As if 'twere ridden post by witch
At twenty miles an hour pace,
1160 And yet ne'er stirs out of the place.
On top of this there is a spire,
On which sir knight first bids the squire
The fiddle, and its spoils, the case,
In manner of a trophy, place.
1165 That done, they ope the trap-door gate,
And let Crowdero down thereat.
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 being a stranger, he's enlarged;
While his comrade, that did no hurt,
Is clapped up fast in prison for 't.
So justice, while she winks at crimes,
Stumbles on innocence sometimes.
|