Canto II

Of their alarm, and how their foesDiscover'd were, this Canto shows.

Though rocks so high about this island rise,That well they may the num'rous Turk despise,Yet is no human fate exempt from fear,Which shakes their hearts, while through the isle they hearA lasting noise, as horrid and as loudAs thunder makes before it breaks the cloud.Three days they dread this murmur, ere they knowFrom what blind cause th'unwonted sound may grow.At length two monsters of unequal size,Hard by the shore, a fisherman espies;Two mighty whales! which swelling seas had toss'd,And left them pris'ners on the rocky coast.One as a mountain vast, and with her cameA cub, not much inferior to his dam.Here in a pool, among the rocks engaged,They roar'd like lions caught in toils, and raged.The man knew what they were, who heretoforeHad seen the like lie murder'd on the shore;By the wild fury of some tempest cast,The fate of ships, and shipwreck'd men, to taste.As careless dames, whom wine and sleep betrayTo frantic dreams, their infants overlay:So there, sometimes, the raging ocean fails,And her own brood exposes; when the whalesAgainst sharp rocks, like reeling vessels quash'd,Though huge as mountains, are in pieces dash'd;Along the shore their dreadful limbs lie scatter'd,Like hills with earthquakes shaken, torn, and shatter'd.Hearts, sure, of brass they had, who tempted firstRude seas that spare not what themselves have nursed.The welcome news through all the nation spread,To sudden joy and hope converts their dread;What lately was their public terror, theyBehold with glad eyes as a certain prey;Dispose already of th'untaken spoil,And as the purchase of their future toil,These share the bones, and they divide the oil.So was the huntsman by the bear oppress'd,Whose hide he sold--before he caught the beast!

They man their boats, and all their young men armWith whatsoever may the monsters harm;Pikes, halberts, spits, and darts that wound so far,The tools of peace, and instruments of war.Now was the time for vig'rous lads to showWhat love, or honour, could incite them to;A goodly theatre! where rocks are roundWith rev'rend age, and lovely lasses, crown'd.Such was the lake which held this dreadful pair,Within the bounds of noble Warwick's share:Warwick's bold Earl! than which no title bearsA greater sound among our British peers;And worthy he the memory to renew,The fate and honour to that title due,Whose brave adventures have transferr'd his name,And through the new world spread his growing fame.--

But how they fought, and what their valour gain'd,Shall in another Canto be contain'd.