The lady fair, and the gentle knight,
Scarcely could believe their sight,
When they beheld the Giant "kick;"
Unseen the hand that struck the blow,
And one cried "Ha!" the other "O—h!"
Both making sure it was old Nick.
But joy illumes their wondering mien,
When, doffing his coat of "invisible green,"
Sir Jack appears before their eyes.
"Thanks!" cried the knight, "thou valour's pink!"
"Well!" said the lady, "only think!
Oh! thank you, saviour of our life!"
"Come home, sir, with myself and wife:—
After such work," the knight pursued—
"A little ale—" "You 'll think me rude,"
Said Jack, "but know, oh worthy peer!
I thirst for glory—not for beer.
I must rout out this monster's den,
Nor can I be at ease till then."
"Don't," begged the knight, "now don't, sir, pray,
Nor run another risk to-day;
Yon mount o'erhangs the monster's lair,
And his big brother waits him there,
A brute more savage than himself;
Then lay your courage on the shelf."
"No!" Sir Jack answered, "if I do,
May I be hanged! Now, mark me, you!
Were there twice ten in yonder hole,
Ere sinks behind yon crag the sun,
The gory head of every one
Before my feet should roll!
Farewell—I 'll call as I come back."
"Adieu," the knight replied; "Alack!
I had forgotten; here's my card."
"Thank you," said Jack, and "bolted hard."
VII.
Away, away, to the mountain cave,
Rides Jack at a spanking trot;
No Knight of the Poll-axe, all so brave,
Could have distanced him I wot!
The Gorgon's head you ne'er have seen—
Nor would it much avail,
To marble ears, Ï rather ween,
The bard to sing his tale.
But oft the Saracen's, I know,
Hath horrified your sight
On London's famous Hill of Snow,
Which is n't often white.
Such was the visage, but four times its size,
With a trunk to match, that our champion spies.
By the mouth of the cave on a chopping-block sitting,
Grinding his teeth and his shaggy brows knitting,
Was the Giant;—and rolling his terrible eyes
Like portentous meteors, they
Glimmered, glowed, and flashed away;
His cheeks and nose were fiery too;
Like wire on his chin the bristles grew;
And his tangled locks hung down his back,
Like the legs of a Brobdignag spider so black;
Ready, the thickest skull to crack
That ever county member wore,
His iron club beside him lay.
He was in a terrible way,
For he voted his brother's not coming a bore.
VIII.
The hero, Jack, dismounts to dress—
What was his toilet you may guess;
So may I be ever dight
When I bow me for the fight.