King Arthur An Heroick Poem. In Twelve Books. By Richard Blackmore. To which is Annexed, An Index, Explaining the Names of Countrys, Citys, and Rivers, &c |
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 | King Arthur |  |
Then by Garontes cast a mighty Spear
Cut thro' the downy Bosom of the Air:
Against the Conquering King it took it's Course,
But in his Buckler spent it's dying Force.
Garontes wheeling off had strait retir'd,
But that the King with Indignation fir'd,
Flew to the Charge, and with an oblique stroke
His mighty Fauchion thro' the Helmet broke.
He did his Mouth from Ear to Ear divide,
And from the Wound gush'd out a reeking Tyde.
His sever'd Jaw depending ghastly show'd,
And from his Throat he Cough'd up Teeth and Blood.
He fell, and while he lay in torturing Pain,
Hot Coursers trod to Mire his Head and Brain.
Cut thro' the downy Bosom of the Air:
Against the Conquering King it took it's Course,
But in his Buckler spent it's dying Force.
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But that the King with Indignation fir'd,
Flew to the Charge, and with an oblique stroke
His mighty Fauchion thro' the Helmet broke.
He did his Mouth from Ear to Ear divide,
And from the Wound gush'd out a reeking Tyde.
His sever'd Jaw depending ghastly show'd,
And from his Throat he Cough'd up Teeth and Blood.
He fell, and while he lay in torturing Pain,
Hot Coursers trod to Mire his Head and Brain.
Onvil advanc'd the Briton to repel,
But on his Crest the mighty Fauchion fell.
The noble stroke did the strong Captain slun,
Who dropt his Sword, and Shield, and in a Swoon,
A while lay sensless on his Courser's Main,
Then fell, and lay stretcht out amidst the Slain.
But on his Crest the mighty Fauchion fell.
The noble stroke did the strong Captain slun,
Who dropt his Sword, and Shield, and in a Swoon,
A while lay sensless on his Courser's Main,
Then fell, and lay stretcht out amidst the Slain.
Martel, who still the hottest Battel sought,
And from the Combate frequent Laurels brought,
Advanc'd the Monarch's progress to arrest,
And hurl'd his massy Spear against his Breast.
On Arthur's temper'd Shield the Weapon broke,
In pieces slew, and lost the furious stroke.
The King incens'd, flew on t'ingage the Foe,
And at his Neck discharg'd a mighty Blow.
Off leap'd the Head, and murm'ring flew away,
Then gasping in the Dust, and twinkling lay.
So swiftly did the sev'ring Fauchion go,
So quick, so strong, so suddain was the Blow,
That still the Trunk, tho' of the Head depriv'd,
Preserv'd its Seat, and scarce the loss perceiv'd:
A while a ghastly Prospect there it staid,
And from the Neck the bloody Fountains play'd,
Which high into the Air their Purple Streams convey'd,
Then down it tumbled, and amidst the Dead,
Lay at a distance from the sever'd Head.
Next Oroban who grew in Battel bold,
Because the Augur when consulted told,
That from the War he should Victorious come,
And chase from Gallia's Coast the Britons home;
Oppos'd the King, but th'unexpected Steel
The wounded Frank did in his Bosom feel.
Approaching Fate he did in vain resist,
Dying he fell, and curst the lying Priest.
And from the Combate frequent Laurels brought,
Advanc'd the Monarch's progress to arrest,
And hurl'd his massy Spear against his Breast.
On Arthur's temper'd Shield the Weapon broke,
In pieces slew, and lost the furious stroke.
The King incens'd, flew on t'ingage the Foe,
And at his Neck discharg'd a mighty Blow.
Off leap'd the Head, and murm'ring flew away,
Then gasping in the Dust, and twinkling lay.
So swiftly did the sev'ring Fauchion go,
So quick, so strong, so suddain was the Blow,
That still the Trunk, tho' of the Head depriv'd,
Preserv'd its Seat, and scarce the loss perceiv'd:
270
And from the Neck the bloody Fountains play'd,
Which high into the Air their Purple Streams convey'd,
Then down it tumbled, and amidst the Dead,
Lay at a distance from the sever'd Head.
Next Oroban who grew in Battel bold,
Because the Augur when consulted told,
That from the War he should Victorious come,
And chase from Gallia's Coast the Britons home;
Oppos'd the King, but th'unexpected Steel
The wounded Frank did in his Bosom feel.
Approaching Fate he did in vain resist,
Dying he fell, and curst the lying Priest.
| King Arthur | |