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XXVII

Not that great Champion[*] of the antique world, 235
Whom famous Poetes verse so much doth vaunt,
And hath for twelve huge labours high extold,
So many furies and sharpe fits did haunt,
When him the poysond garment did enchaunt,
With Centaures bloud and bloudie verses charm’d; 240
As did this knight twelve thousand dolours daunt,
Whom fyrie steele now burnt, that earst him arm’d,
That erst him goodly arm’d, now most of all him harm’d.

XXVIII

Faint, wearie, sore, emboyled, grieved, brent[*]
With heat, toyle, wounds, armes, smart, and inward fire, 245
That never man such mischiefes did torment;
Death better were, death did he oft desire,
But death will never come, when needes require.
Whom so dismayd when that his foe beheld,
He cast to suffer him no more respire, 250
But gan his sturdy sterne about to weld,
And him so strongly stroke, that to the ground him feld.

XXIX

It fortuned, (as faire it then befell,)
Behind his backe unweeting, where he stood,
Of auncient time there was a springing well, 255
From which fast trickled forth a silver flood,
Full of great vertues, and for med’cine good.
Whylome, before that cursed Dragon got
That happy land, and all with innocent blood
Defyld those sacred waves, it rightly hot 260
The well of life,[*] ne yet his vertues had forgot.

XXX

For unto life the dead it could restore,
And guilt of sinfull crimes cleane wash away,
Those that with sicknesse were infected sore
It could recure, and aged long decay 265
Renew, as one were borne that very day.
Both Silo[*] this, and Jordan did excell,
And th’ English Bath,[*] and eke the German Spau;
Ne can Cephise,[*] nor Hebrus match this well:
Into the same the knight back overthrowen, fell. 270

XXXI

Now gan the golden Phoebus for to steepe
His fierie face in billowes of the west,
And his faint steedes watred in Ocean deepe,
Whiles from their journall labours they did rest,
When that infernall Monster, having kest 275
His wearie foe into that living well,
Can high advance his broad discoloured brest
Above his wonted pitch, with countenance fell,
And clapt his yron wings, as victor he did dwell.

XXXII

Which when his pensive Ladie saw from farre, 280
Great woe and sorrow did her soule assay,
As weening that the sad end of the warre,
And gan to highest God entirely pray,
That feared chance from her to turne away;
With folded hands and knees full lowly bent, 285
All night she watcht, ne once adowne would lay
Her daintie limbs in her sad dreriment,
But praying still did wake, and waking did lament.

XXXIII

The morrow next gan early to appeare,
That Titan rose to runne his daily race; 290
But early ere the morrow next gan reare
Out of the sea faire Titans deawy face,
Up rose the gentle virgin from her place,
And looked all about, if she might spy
Her loved knight to move[*] his manly pace: 295
For she had great doubt of his safety,
Since late she saw him fall before his enemy.