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The first Booke of
Cant. XI.
Which when in vaine he tryde with struggeling,Inflam'd with wrath, his raging blade he hefte,And strooke so strongly, that the knotty stringOf his huge taile he quite a sonder clefte,Fiue ioints thereof he hewd, & but the stump him lefte.
Hart cannot thinke, what outrage, and what cries,With fowle enfouldred smoake and flashing fire,The hell-bred beast threw forth vnto the skies,That all was couered with darknesse dire:Then fraught with rancour, and engorged yre,He cast at once him to auenge for all,And gathering vp himselfe out of the mire,With his vneuen wings did fiercely fall,Vpon his sunne-bright shield, and grypt it fast withall.
Much was the man encombred with his hold,In feare to lose his weapon in his paw,Ne wist yett, how his talaunts to vnfold;For harder was from Cerberus greedy iawTo plucke a bone, then from his cruell clawTo reaue by strength, the griped gage away:Thrise he assayd it from his foote to draw,And thrise in vaine to draw it did assay,It booted nought to thinke, to robbe him of his pray.
Tho when he saw no power might preuaile,His trusty sword he cald to his last aid,Wherewith he fiersly did his foe assaile,And double blowes about him stoutly laid,That glauncing fire out of the yron plaid;As sparckles from the Anduile vse to fly,When heauy hammers on the wedg are swaid;Therewith at last he forst him to vntyOne of his grasping feete, him to defend threby.
The
