162
The first Booke of
Cant. XI.
As if in Adamant rocke it had beene pight,The beast impatient of his smarting wound,And of so fierce and forcible despight,Thought with his winges to stye aboue the ground;But his late wounded wing vnseruiceable found.
Then full of griefe and anguish vehement,He lowdly brayd, that like was neuer heard,And from his wide deuouring ouen sentA flake of fire, that flashing in his beard,Him all amazd, and almost made afeard:The scorching flame sore swinged all his face,And through his armour all his body seard,That he could not endure so cruell cace,But thought his armes to leaue, and helmet to vnlace.
Not that great Champion of the antique world,Whom famous Poetes verse so much doth vaunt,And hath for twelue huge labours high extold,So many furies and sharpe fits did haunt,When him the poysoned garment did enchauntWith Centaures blood, and bloody verses charmd,As did this knight twelue thousand dolours daunt,Whom fyrie steele now burnt, that erst him armd,That erst him goodly armd, now most of all him harmd.
Faynt, wearie, sore, emboyled, grieued, brentWith heat, toyle, wounds, armes, smart, & inward fireThat neuer man such mischiefes did torment;Death better were, death did he oft desire,But death will neuer come, when needes require.Whom so dismayd when that his foe beheld,He cast to suffer him no more respire,But gan his sturdy sterne about to weld,And him so strongly stroke, that to the ground him feld.
It
