RALPHO dispatch'd with speedy haste, And having ty'd CROWDERO fast, 1115 He gave Sir Knight the end of cord, To lead the captive of his sword In triumph, whilst 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 trophee-fiddle and the case, Leaning on shoulder like a mace. The Knight himself did after ride, Leading CROWDERO by his side; 1125 And tow'd him, if he lagg'd behind, Like boat against the tide and wind. Thus grave and solemn they march'd on, Until quite thro' the town th' had gone; At further end of which there stands 1130 An ancient castle, that commands Th' adjacent parts: in all the fabrick You shall not see one stone nor a brick; But all of wood; by pow'rful spell Of magic made impregnable. 1135 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 conflu'd, With walls of subtile air and wind, 1145 Which none are able to break thorough, Until they're freed by head of borough. Thither arriv'd, th' advent'rous Knight And bold Squire from their steeds alight At th' outward wall, near which there stands 1150 A bastile, built to imprison hands; By strange enchantment made to fetter The lesser parts and free the greater; For though the body may creep through, The hands in grate are fast enough: 1155 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 trophee 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, 1170 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 be'ing a stranger, he's enlarged; 1175 While his comrade, that did no hurt, Is clapp'd up fast in prison for't. So Justice, while she winks at crimes, Stumbles on innocence sometimes. NOTES TO PART I. CANTO II.