But all, alas! had been in vain, And he inevitably slain, If TRULLA and CERDON, in the nick, To rescue him had not been quick; 100 For TRULLA, who was light of foot As shafts which long-field Parthians shoot, (But not so light as to be borne Upon the ears of standing corn, Or trip it o'er the water quicker 105 Than witches, when their staves they liquor, As some report,) was got among The foremost of the martial throng; There pitying the vanquish'd Bear, She call'd to CERDON, who stood near, 110 Viewing the bloody fight; to whom, Shall we (quoth she) stand still hum-drum, And see stout Bruin all alone, By numbers basely overthrown? Such feats already h' has atchiev'd, 115 In story not to be believ'd; And 'twould to us be shame enough, Not to attempt to fetch him off. I would (quoth he) venture a limb To second thee, and rescue him: 120 But then we must about it straight, Or else our aid will come too late. Quarter he scorns, he is so stout, And therefore cannot long hold out. This said, they wav'd their weapons round 125 About their heads, to clear the ground; And joining forces, laid about So fiercely, that th' amazed rout Turn'd tale again, and straight begun, As if the Devil drove, to run. 130 Meanwhile th' approach'd th' place where Bruin Was now engag'd to mortal ruin. The conqu'ring foe they soon assail'd; First TRULLA <p> stav'd, and CERDON tail'd, Until their mastives loos'd their hold: 135 And yet, alas! do what they could, The worsted Bear came off with store Of bloody wounds, but all before: For as ACHILLES, dipt in pond, Was ANABAPTIZ'D free from wound, 140 Made proof against dead-doing steel All over, but the Pagan heel; So did our champion's arms defend All of him, but the other end, His head and ears, which, in the martial 145 Encounter, lost a leathern parcel For as an Austrian Archduke once Had one ear (which in ducatoons Is half the coin) in battle par'd Close to his head, so Bruin far'd; 150 But tugg'd and pull'd on th' other side, Like scriv'ner newly crucify'd; Or like the late <q> corrected leathern Ears of the Circumcised Brethren. But gentle TRULLA into th' ring 155 He wore in's nose convey'd a string, With which she march'd before, and led The warrior to a grassy bed, As authors write, in a cool shade, Which eglantine and roses made; 160 Close by a softly murm'ring stream, Where lovers us'd to loll and dream. There leaving him to his repose, Secured from pursuit of foes, And wanting nothing but a song, 165 And a well-tun'd theorbo hung Upon a bough, to ease the pain His tugg'd ears suffer'd, with a strain, They both drew up, to march in quest