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 |  |
Osor mean time broke thro' th'opposing Franks,
And bravely plung'd amidst the thickest Ranks.
Great Shabron's Head his fatal Fauchion cleft,
And on the ground th'expiring Pagan left.
T'engage the Briton Rimon did advance;
But in his Buckler broke th'unprosperous Lance.
Osor incens'd advanc'd to Charge the Foe,
Pois'd his long Spear and pierc'd his Body thro'.
The Pagan sinking backward lost the Rein,
The affrighted steed ran wild across the Plain
And dropt the dying Frank amidst the Slain.
Next the brave Warriour did his Javelin throw
At Ulna's Breast, which tho' it mist the Foe,
The glittering point his Steed's right Eye-ball past,
And stuck within the bloody Orbit fast.
High in the Air he rose, then to the ground
He backward fell, expiring with the wound.
Struck Breathless with the Fall, the noble Frank
Lay with his Shoulders on the Courser's Flank.
Quick to the ground the Briton from his Seat
With ardor leap'd, his Conquest to compleat.
He laid his left Hand on the Warriour's Crest,
And with his right Hand stab'd him in the Breast.
And bravely plung'd amidst the thickest Ranks.
Great Shabron's Head his fatal Fauchion cleft,
And on the ground th'expiring Pagan left.
T'engage the Briton Rimon did advance;
But in his Buckler broke th'unprosperous Lance.
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Pois'd his long Spear and pierc'd his Body thro'.
The Pagan sinking backward lost the Rein,
The affrighted steed ran wild across the Plain
And dropt the dying Frank amidst the Slain.
Next the brave Warriour did his Javelin throw
At Ulna's Breast, which tho' it mist the Foe,
The glittering point his Steed's right Eye-ball past,
And stuck within the bloody Orbit fast.
High in the Air he rose, then to the ground
He backward fell, expiring with the wound.
Struck Breathless with the Fall, the noble Frank
Lay with his Shoulders on the Courser's Flank.
Quick to the ground the Briton from his Seat
With ardor leap'd, his Conquest to compleat.
He laid his left Hand on the Warriour's Crest,
And with his right Hand stab'd him in the Breast.
| King Arthur | |