Page:Gondibert, an heroick poem - William Davenant (1651).djvu/125

CANTO the Fifth.

The Argument.
The Battel in exact, though little shape,
Where none by flight, and few by fortune scape,
Where even the vanquish'd so themselves behave,
The Victors mourn for all they could not save:
And fear (so soon is Fortune's fullness wain'd)
To lose in one, all that by all they gain'd.

1.
NOw Hubert's Page assists his wounded Lord
 To mount that Steed, he scarce had force to guide;
And wept to see his hand without that Sword
 Which was so oft in busie Battel try'd.

2.
Those who with Borgio saw his want of blood,
 Cry'd out, If of thy strength enough remain,
Though not to charge, to make thy conduct good
 Lead us to adde their living to our slain.

3.
Hubert reply'd, Now you may justly boast,
 You Sons of War, that Oswald was your Sire;
Who got in you the honour I have lost;
 And taught those deeds our Ladies songs admire.

4.
But he (Wars Ancestour, who gave it birth,
 The Father of those Fights we Lombards fought)
Lies there embracing but his length of Earth,
 Who for your use the world's vast Empire sought.

5.
And cold as he lies noble Dargonet,
 And Paradine, who wore the Victors Crown;
Both swift to Charge, and lame in a Retreat;
 Brothers in bloud, and Rivals in renown.

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