Hudibras Samuel Butler (free novels to read TXT) 📖

A squire he had, whose name was Ralph,
That in th’ adventure went his half:
Though writers, for more stately tone,
Do call him Ralpho; ’tis all one;
And when we can with metre safe,
We’ll call him so; if not, plain Ralph.
(For rhyme the rudder is of verses,
With which like ships they steer their courses.)
An equal stock of wit and valour
He had laid in; by birth a tailor.
The mighty Tyrian queen, that gain’d
With subtle shreds a tract of land,33
Did leave it with a castle fair
To his great ancestor, her heir.
From him descended cross-legg’d knights,
Fam’d for their faith, and warlike fights
Against the bloody cannibal,
Whom they destroy’d both great and small.
This sturdy Squire he had, as well
As the bold Trojan knight, seen Hell;34
Not with a counterfeited pass
Of golden bough, but true gold-lace.
His knowledge was not far behind
The Knight’s, but of another kind,
And he another way came by ’t:
Some call it Gifts, and some New-Light;
A liberal art that costs no pains
Of study, industry, or brains.
His wit was sent him for a token,
But in the carriage crack’d and broken.
Like commendation nine-pence crook’d,
With⁠—To and from my love⁠—it look’d.
He ne’er consider’d it, as loth
To look a gift-horse in the mouth;
And very wisely would lay forth
No more upon it than ’twas worth.
But as he got it freely, so
He spent it frank and freely too.
For Saints themselves will sometimes be
Of gifts that cost them nothing, free.
By means of this, with hem and cough,
Prolongers to enlighten’d stuff,
He could deep mysteries unriddle
As easily as thread a needle.
For as of vagabonds we say,
That they are ne’er beside their way;
Whate’er men speak by this New Light,
Still they are sure to be i’ th’ right.
’Tis a dark-lantern of the spirit,
Which none see by but those that bear it:
A light that falls down from on high,
For spiritual trades to cozen by:
An ignis fatuus, that bewitches
And leads men into pools and ditches,
To make them dip themselves, and sound
For Christendom in dirty pond;
To dive like wild-fowl for salvation,
And fish to catch regeneration.
This light inspires and plays upon
The nose of saint like bag-pipe drone,
And speaks through hollow empty soul,
As through a trunk, or whisp’ring hole,
Such language as no mortal ear
But spirit’al eaves-droppers can hear:
So Phœbus, or some friendly muse,
Into small poets’ song infuse,
Which they at second-hand rehearse,
Thro’ reed or bag-pipe, verse for verse.

Thus Ralph became infallible
As three or four-legg’d oracle,35
The ancient cup, or modern chair;
Spoke truth point-blank, tho’ unaware.

For mystick learning, wondrous able
In magick Talisman and Cabal,36
Whose primitive tradition reaches
As far as Adam’s first green breeches:37
Deep sighted in intelligences,
Ideas, atoms, influences;
And much of terra incognita,
Th’ intelligible world, could say:38
A deep occult Philosopher,
As learn’d as the wild Irish are,39
Or Sir Agrippa; for profound40
And solid lying much renown’d.
He Anthroposophus, and Floud,
And Jacob Behmen understood:41
Knew many an amulet and charm,
That would do neither good nor harm:
In Rosy-crucian lore as learned,
As he that Vere adeptus earned.42
He understood the speech of birds
As well as they themselves do words;
Cou’d tell what subtlest parrots mean,
That speak, and think contrary clean:
What member ’tis of whom they talk,
When they cry Rope, and Walk, knave, walk.
He’d extract numbers out of matter,
And keep them in a glass, like water;
Of sov’reign pow’r to make men wise;
For drop’d in blear thick-sighted eyes,
They’d make them see in darkest night,
Like owls, tho’ purblind in the light.
By help of these (as he profess’d)
He had First Matter seen undress’d:
He took her naked all alone,
Before one rag of form was on.
The Chaos too he had descry’d,
And seen quite thro’, or else he ly’d:
Not that of paste-board which men shew
For groats, at fair of Barthol’mew;
But its great grandsire, first o’ the name,
Whence that and Reformation came;
Both cousin-germans, and right able
T’ inveigle and draw in the rabble.
But Reformation was, some say,
O’ th’ younger house to Puppet-play.
He could foretel whats’ever was
By consequence to come to pass;
As death of great men, alterations,
Diseases, battles, inundations,
All this, without th’ eclipse o’ th’ sun,
Or dreadful comet, he hath done,
By inward light; away as good,
And easy to be understood;
But with more lucky hit than those
That use to make the stars depose,
Like knights o’ th’ post, and falsely charge
Upon themselves what others forge:
As if they were consenting to
All mischiefs in the world men do:
Or, like the Devil, did tempt and sway ’em
To rogueries, and then betray ’em.
They’ll search a planet’s house, to know
Who broke and robb’d a house below:
Examine Venus, and the Moon,
Who stole a thimble or a spoon;
And tho’ they nothing will confess,
Yet by their very looks can guess,
And tell what guilty aspect bodes,
Who stole, and who receiv’d the goods.
They’ll question Mars, and by his look,
Detect who