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The Faerie Queene, Book I, Canto 8
by [?]


And eke the fruitfull-headed beast, amazd
At flashing beames of that sunshiny shield,
Became starke blind, and all his sences daz’d,
That downe he tumbled on the durtie field, 175
And seem’d himselfe as conquered to yield.
Whom when his maistresse proud perceiv’d to fall,
Whiles yet his feeble feet for faintnesse reeld,
Unto the Gyant loudly she gan call,
O helpe Orgoglio, helpe, or else we perish all. 180


At her so pitteous cry was much amoov’d
Her champion stout, and for to ayde his frend,
Againe his wonted angry weapon proov’d:
But all in vaine: for he has read his end
In that bright shield, and all their forces spend 185
Themselves in vaine: for since that glauncing sight,
He had no powre to hurt, nor to defend;
As where th’ Almighties lightning brond does light,
It dimmes the dazed eyen, and daunts the senses quight.


Whom when the Prince, to battell new addrest, 190
And threatning high his dreadfull stroke did see,
His sparkling blade about his head he blest,
And smote off quite his right leg by the knee,
That downe he tombled; as an aged tree,
High growing on the top of rocky clift, 195
Whose hartstrings with keene steele nigh hewen be,
The mightie trunck halfe rent, with ragged rift
Doth roll adowne the rocks, and fall with fearefull drift.


Or as a Castle reared high and round,
By subtile engins and malitious slight 200
Is undermined from the lowest ground,
And her foundation forst, and feebled quight,
At last downe falles, and with her heaped hight
Her hastie ruine does more heavie make,
And yields it selfe unto the victours might; 205
Such was this Gyants fall, that seemd to shake
The stedfast globe of earth, as it for feare did quake.


The knight then lightly leaping to the pray,
With mortall steele him smot againe so sore,
That headlesse his unweldy bodie lay, 210
All wallowd in his owne fowle bloudy gore,
Which flowed from his wounds in wondrous store.
But soone as breath out of his breast did pas,
That huge great body, which the Gyaunt bore,
Was vanisht quite, and of that monstrous mas 215
Was nothing left, but like an emptie bladder was.


Whose grievous fall, when false Duessa spide,
Her golden cup she cast unto the ground,
And crowned mitre rudely threw aside;
Such percing griefe her stubborne hart did wound, 220
That she could not endure that dolefull stound,
But leaving all behind her, fled away;
The light-foot Squire her quickly turnd around,
And by hard meanes enforcing her to stay,
So brought unto his Lord, as his deserved pray. 225