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The Faerie Queene, Book I, Canto 7
by [?]


Yet goodly court he made still to his Dame, 55
Pourd[*] out in loosnesse on the grassy grownd,
Both carelesse of his health, and of his fame:
Till at the last he heard a dreadfull sownd,
Which through the wood loud bellowing did rebownd,
That all the earth for terrour seemd to shake, 60
And trees did tremble. Th’ Elfe therewith astownd,
Upstarted lightly from his looser make,[*]
And his unready weapons gan in hand to take.


But ere he could his armour on him dight,
Or get his shield, his monstrous enimy 65
With sturdie steps came stalking in his sight,
An hideous Geant,[*] horrible and hye,
That with his tallnesse seemd to threat the skye,
The ground eke groned under him for dreed;
His living like saw never living eye, 70
Ne durst behold: his stature did exceed
The hight of three the tallest sonnes of mortall seed.


The greatest Earth his uncouth mother was,
And blustering Aeolus his boasted syre,
* * * * *
Brought forth this monstrous masse of earthly slime 75
Puft up with emptie wind, and fild with sinfull crime.


So growen great through arrogant delight
Of th’ high descent, whereof he was yborne,
And through presumption of his matchlesse might,
All other powres and knighthood he did scorne. 80
Such now he marcheth to this man forlorne,
And left to losse: his stalking steps are stayde
Upon a snaggy Oke, which he had torne
Out of his mothers bowelles, and it made
His mortall mace, wherewith his foeman he dismayde. 85


That when the knight he spide, he gan advance
With huge force and insupportable mayne,
And towardes him with dreadfull fury praunce;
Who haplesse, and eke hopelesse, all in vaine
Did to him pace, sad battaile to darrayne, 90
Disarmd, disgrast, and inwardly dismayde,
And eke so faint in every joynt and vaine,
Through that fraile fountaine, which him feeble made,
That scarsely could he weeld his bootlesse single blade.


The Geaunt strooke so maynly mercilesse, 95
That could have overthrowne a stony towre,
And were not heavenly grace, that did him blesse,
He had beene pouldred all, as thin as flowre:
But he was wary of that deadly stowre,
And lightly lept from underneath the blow: 100
Yet so exceeding was the villeins powre,
That with the wind it did him overthrow,
And all his sences stound, that still he lay full low.


As when that divelish yron Engin[*] wrought
In deepest Hell, and framd by Furies skill, 105
With windy Nitre and quick Sulphur fraught,
And ramd with bullet round, ordaind to kill,
Conceiveth fire, the heavens it doth fill
With thundring noyse, and all the ayre doth choke,
That none can breath, nor see, nor heare at will, 110
Through smouldry cloud of duskish stincking smoke,
That th’ onely breath[*] him daunts, who hath escapt the stroke.