Hudibras - Samuel Butler (story reading txt) š
- Author: Samuel Butler
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And one more fair address, to get her.
Who would believe what strange bugbears
Mankind creates itself, of fears
That spring like fern, that insect weed,
Equivocally, without seed;
And have no possible foundation,
But merely in thā imagination;
And yet can do more dreadful feats
Than hags, with all their imps and teats;199
Make more bewitch and haunt themselves
Than all their nurseries of elves?
For fear does things so like a witch,
āTis hard tā unriddle which is which.
Sets up Communities of senses,
To chop and change intelligences;
As Rosicrucian virtuosos200
Can see with ears, and hear with noses;
And when they neither see nor hear,
Have more than both supplyād by fear;
That makes āem in the dark see visions,
And hag themselves with apparitions;
And when their eyes discover least,
Discern the subtlest objects best:
Do things not contrary, alone,
To thā course of nature, but its own;
The courage of the bravest daunt,
And turn poltroons as valiant,
For men as resolute appear
With too much as too little fear;
And when theyāre out of hopes of flying,
Will run away from death, by dying;
Or turn again to stand it out,
And those they fled, like lions, rout.
This Hudibras had provād too true,
Who, by the furies left perdue,
And haunted with detachments, sent
From Marshal Legionās regiment,201
Was by a fiend, as counterfeit,
Relievād and rescuād with a cheat;
When nothing but himself, and fear,
Was both the imp and conjurer;
As, by the rules oā thā virtuosi,
It follows in due form of poesie.
Disguisād in all the masks of night,
We left our champion on his flight,
At blindmanās buff, to grope his way,
In equal fear of night and day;
Who took his dark and despārate course,
He knew no better than his horse;
And, by an unknown devil led,
(He knew as little whither) fled.
He never was in greater need,
Nor less capacity, of speed;
Disabled, both in man and beast,
To fly and run away his best;
To keep the enemy, and fear,
From equal falling on his rear.
And though with kicks and bangs he plyād
The further and the nearer side
(As seamen ride with all their force,
And tug as if they rowād the horse,
And when the hackney sails most swift,
Believe they lag, or run adrift,)
So, though he posted eāer so fast,
His fear was greater than his haste:
For fear, though fleeter than the wind,
Believes ātis always left behind.
But when the morn began tā appear,
And shift tā another scene his fear,
He found his new officious shade,
That came so timely to his aid,
And forcād him from the foe tā escape,
Had turnād itself to Ralphoās shape;
So like in person, garb, and pitch,
āTwas hard tā interpret which was which.
For Ralpho had no sooner told
The Lady all he had tā unfold,
But she conveyād him out of sight,
To entertain thā approaching Knight;
And, while he gave himself diversion,
Tā accommodate his beast and person,
And put his beard into a posture
At best advantage to accost her,
She ordered the anti-masquerade
(For his reception) aforesaid:
But when the ceremony was done,
The lights put out, and furies gone,
And Hudibras, among the rest,
Conveyād away, as Ralpho guessād,
The wretched caitiff, all alone,
(As he believād) began to moan,
And tell his story to himself,
The Knight mistook him for an elf;
And did so still, till he began
To scruple at Ralphās outward man;
And thought, because they oft agreed
Tā appear in one anotherās stead,
And act the saintās and devilās part
With undistinguishable art,
They might have done so now, perhaps,
And put on one anotherās shapes:
And therefore, to resolve the doubt,
He starād upon him, and cryād out,
What art? My Squire, or that bold sprite
That took his place and shape to-night?
Some busy, independent pug,
Retainer to his synagogue?
Alas! quoth he, Iām none of those,
Your bosom friends, as you suppose;
But Ralph himself, your trusty Squire,
Whā has draggād your Donship out oā thā mire,
And from the enchantments of a widow,
Whā had turnād you intā a beast, have freed you;
And, though a prisoner of war,
Have brought you safe where you now are;
Which you would gratefully repay
Your constant Presbyterian way.
Thatās stranger (quoth the Knight) and stranger;
Who gave thee notice of my danger?
Quoth he, Thā infernal conjurer
Pursuād and took me prisoner;
And knowing you were hereabout,
Brought me along to find you out;
Where I, in hugger-mugger hid,
Have noted all they said or did:
And though they lay to him the pageant,
I did not see him, nor his agent;
Who playād their sorceries out of sight,
Tā avoid a fiercer second fight.
But didst thou see no devils then?
Not one (quoth he) but carnal men,
A little worse than fiends in hell,
And that she-devil Jezebel,
That laughād and tee-heād with derision,
To see them take your deposition.
What then (quoth Hudibras) was he
That playād the devāl to examine me?
A rallying weaver in the town,
That did it in a parsonās gown,
Whom all the parish take for gifted;
But, for my part, I neāer believād it:
In which you told them all your feats,
Your conscientious frauds and cheats;
Denyād your whipping, and confest
The naked truth of all the rest,
More plainly than the revārend writer,202
That to our churches veilād his mitre;
All which they took in black and white,
And cudgellād me to under-write.
What made thee, when they all were gone,
And none but thou and I alone,
To act the devil, and forbear
To rid me of my hellish fear?
Quoth he, I knew your constant rate
And frame of spārit too obstinate
To be by me prevailād upon
With any motives of my own;
And therefore strove to counterfeit
The devāl a-while, to nick your wit;
The devāl, that is your constant crony,
That only can prevail upon ye;
Else we might still have been disputing,
And they with weighty drubs confuting.
The Knight who now began to find
Thā had left the enemy behind,
And saw no farther harm remain,
But feeble weariness and pain,
Perceivād, by losing of their way,
Thā had gainād thā advantage of the day;
And, by declining of the road,
They had, by chance, their rear made good;
He venturād to dismiss his fear,
That partingās want to rent and tear,
And give the desperatāst attack
To danger still behind its back:
For having pausād to recollect,
And on his past success reflect,
Tā examine and consider why,
And whence, and how, they came to fly,
And when no devil had appearād,
What else, it could be said, he fearād;
It put him in so fierce a rage,
He once resolvād to re-engage;
Tossād like a foot-ball back again,
With shame and vengeance, and
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