IX

That hasty wroth, and heedlesse hazardry, He hewd, and lasht, and foynd, and thondred Doe breede repentaunce late, and lasting infamy.'

blowes,

grind

XIV

And every way did seeke into his life; [throwes,
Ne plate, ne male, could ward so mighty So up he let him rise; who, with grim looke
But yeilded passage to his cruell knife. And count'naunce sterne, upstanding, gan to
But Guyon, in the heat of all his strife,
Was wary wise. and closely did awayt His grated teeth for great disdeigne, and shooke
Avauntage, whilest his foe did rage most rife: His sandy lockes, long hanging downe behind,
Sometimes athwart, sometimes he strook him Knotted in blood and dust, for grief of mind
strayt,
[such bayt. That he in ods of armes was conquered:

And falsed oft his blowes t' illude him with Yet in himselfe some comfort he did find,

X

Like as a Lyon, whose imperiall powre
A prowd rebellious Unicorn defyes,
T'avoide the rash assault and wrathful stowre
Of his fiers foe, him to a tree applyes, [spyes,
And when him ronning in full course he
He slips aside; the whiles that furious beast
His precious horne, sought of his enimyes,
Strikes in the stocke, ne thence can be releast,
But to the mighty victor yields a bounteous
feast.

XI

With such faire sleight him Guyon often
fayld,

Till at the last all breathlesse, weary, faint,
Him spying, with fresh onsett he assayld,
And kindling new his corage seeming queint,
Strooke him so hugely, that through great con-
straint

He made him stoup perforce unto his knee,
And doe unwilling worship to the Saint,
That on his shield depainted he did see: [hee.
Such homage till that instant never learned

XII

Whom Guyon seeing stoup, poursewed fast
The present offer of faire victory,
And soone his dreadfull blade about he cast,
Wherewith he smote his haughty crest so hye,
That streight on grownd made him full low to
lye;

Then on his brest his victor foote he thrust:
With that he cryde; Mercy! doe me not dye,
Ne deeme thy force by fortunes doome unjust,
That hath (maugre her spight) thus low me
laid in dust.'

XIII

Eftsoones his cruel hand Sir Guyon stayd,
Tempring the passion with advizement slow,
And maistring might on enimy dismayd;
For th' equall die of warre he well did know:
Then to him said; 'Live, and alleagaunce owe
To him that gives thee life and liberty;
And henceforth by this daies ensample trow,

That him so noble knight had maystered; Whose bounty more then might, yet both, he wondered.

Through many a stroke and many a streaming He then uprose, inflamd with fell despight, And called for his armes, for he would algates fight: