Thrice he essay'd to mount aloft;
But by his weighty bum, as oft 620
He was pull'd back: 'till having found
Th' advantage of the rising ground,
Thither he led his warlike steed,
And having plac'd him right, with speed
Prepar'd again to scale the beast, 625
When Orsin, who had newly drest
The bloody scar upon the shoulder
Of Talgol, with Promethean powder,[1]
And now was searching for the shot
That laid Magnano on the spot, 630
Beheld the sturdy Squire aforesaid
Preparing to climb up his horse-side;
He left his cure, and laying hold
Upon his arms, with courage bold
Cry'd out, 'Tis now no time to dally, 635
The enemy begin to rally:
Let us that are unhurt and whole
Fall on, and happy man be's dole.[2]
This said, like to a thunderbolt,
He flew with fury to th' assault, 640
Striving the enemy to attack
Before he reach'd his horse's back.
Ralpho was mounted now, and gotten
O'erthwart his beast with active vau'ting,
Wriggling his body to recover 645
His seat, and cast his right leg over;
When Orsin, rushing in, bestow'd
On horse and man so heavy a load,
The beast was startled, and begun
To kick and fling like mad, and run, 650
Bearing the tough Squire, like a sack,
Or stout king Richard, on his back;[3]
- ↑ See canto ii. ver. 225.—Prometheus boasts especially of communicating to mankind the knowledge of medicines, Æschyli Prometh. Vinct, v. 491.
- ↑ A common saying, repeatedly occurring in Shakspeare and the old poets, equivalent to,—"May it be his lot (dole) to be a happy man!"
- ↑ After the battle of Bosworth Field, where Richard III. fell, his body was stripped, and, in an ignominious manner, laid across a horse's back like a slaughtered deer; his head and arras hanging on one side, and his legs on the other, besmeared with blood and dirt.
