100
NYMPHIDIA.
And being gotten to the top,Yet there himself he could not stop,But down on th' other side doth chop, And to the foot came rumbling:So that the grubs therein that bred,Hearing such turmoil over head,Thought surely they had all been dead, So fearful was the jumbling.
And falling down into a lake,Which him up to the neck doth take,His fury it doth somewhat slake, He calleth for a ferry:Where you may some recovery note,What was his club he made his boat,And in his oaken cup doth float, As safe as in a wherry.
Men talk of the adventures strangeOf Don Quishot, and of their change,Through which he armed oft did range, Of Sancho Panchas travel:But should a man tell every thingDone by this frantic fairy king,And them in lofty numbers sing, It well his wits might gravel.
