XVII

The Sarazin sore daunted with the buffe 145
  Snatcheth his sword, and fiercely to him flies;
  Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with cuff: 
  Each others equall puissaunce envies,[*]
  And through their iron sides[*] with cruell spies
  Does seeke to perce:  repining courage yields 150
  No foote to foe.  The flashing fier flies
  As from a forge out of their burning shields,
And streams of purple bloud new dies the verdant fields.

XVIII

Curse on that Crosse (quoth then the Sarazin),
  That keepes thy body from the bitter fit;[*] 155
  Dead long ygoe I wote thou haddest bin,
  Had not that charme from thee forwarned it: 
  But yet I warne thee now assured sitt,[*]
  And hide thy head.  Therewith upon his crest
  With rigour so outrageous[*] he smitt, 160
  That a large share[*] it hewd out of the rest,
And glauncing down his shield from blame him fairly blest.[*]

XIX

Who thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping spark
  Of native vertue gan eftsoones revive,
  And at his haughtie helmet making mark, 165
  So hugely stroke, that it the steele did rive,
  And cleft his head.  He tumbling downe alive,
  With bloudy mouth his mother earth did kis. 
  Greeting his grave:  his grudging[*] ghost did strive
  With the fraile flesh; at last it flitted is, 170
Whither the soules do fly of men that live amis.

XX

The Lady when she saw her champion fall,
  Like the old ruines of a broken towre,
  Staid not to waile his woefull funerall,
  But from him fled away with all her powre; 175
  Who after her as hastily gan scowre,
  Bidding the Dwarfe with him to bring away
  The Sarazins shield, signe of the conqueroure. 
  Her soone he overtooke, and bad to stay,
For present cause was none of dread her to dismay. 180

XXI

She turning backe with ruefull countenaunce,
  Cride, Mercy mercy Sir vouchsafe to show
  On silly Dame, subject to hard mischaunce,
  And to your mighty will.  Her humblesse low
  In so ritch weedes and seeming glorious show, 185
  Did much emmove his stout heroicke heart,
  And said, Deare dame, your suddin overthrow
  Much rueth me; but now put feare apart,
And tell, both who ye be, and who that tooke your part.

XXII

Melting in teares, then gan she thus lament; 190
  The wretched woman, whom unhappy howre
  Hath now made thrall to your commandement,
  Before that angry heavens list to lowre,
  And fortune false betraide me to your powre,
  Was, (O what now availeth that I was!) 195
  Borne the sole daughter of an Emperour,[*]
  He that the wide West under his rule has,
And high hath set his throne, where Tiberis doth pas.