With that his balefull speare[703] he fiercely bent xxxii Against the Pagans[704] brest, and therewith thought His cursed life out of her lodge haue rent: But ere the point arriued, where it ought, That seuen-fold shield, which he from _Guyon_ brought He cast betwene to ward the bitter stound: Through all those foldes the steelehead passage wrought And through his shoulder pierst; wherwith to ground He groueling fell, all gored in his gushing wound. Which when his brother saw, fraught with great griefe xxxiii And wrath, he to him leaped furiously, And fowly said, By _Mahoune_, cursed thiefe, That direfull stroke thou dearely shalt aby. Then hurling vp his harmefull blade on hye, Smote him so hugely on his haughtie crest, That from his saddle forced him to fly: Else mote it needes downe to his manly brest Haue cleft his head in twaine, and life thence dispossest. Now was the Prince in daungerous distresse, xxxiv Wanting his sword, when he on foot should fight: His single speare could doe him small redresse, Against two foes of so exceeding might, The least of which was match for any knight. And now the other, whom he earst did daunt, Had reard himselfe againe to cruell fight, Three times more furious, and more puissaunt, Vnmindfull of his wound, of his fate ignoraunt. So both attonce him charge on either side, xxxv With hideous strokes, and importable powre, That forced him his ground to trauerse wide, And wisely watch to ward that deadly stowre: For in[705] his shield, as thicke as stormie showre, Their strokes did raine, yet did he neuer quaile, Ne backward shrinke, but as a stedfast towre, Whom foe with double[706] battry doth assaile, Them on her bulwarke beares, and bids them nought auaile. So stoutly he withstood their strong assay, xxxvi Till that at last, when he aduantage spyde, His poinant speare he thrust with puissant sway At proud _Cymochles_, whiles his shield was wyde, That through his thigh the mortall steele did gryde: He swaruing with the force, within his flesh Did breake the launce, and let the head abyde: Out of the wound the red bloud flowed fresh, That vnderneath his feet soone made a purple plesh. Horribly then he gan to rage, and rayle, xxxvii Cursing his Gods, and himselfe damning deepe: Als when his brother saw the red bloud rayle[707] Adowne so fast, and all his armour steepe, For very felnesse lowd he gan to weepe, And said, Caytiue, cursse on thy cruell hond, That twise hath sped; yet shall it not thee keepe From the third brunt of this my fatall brond: Loe where the dreadfull Death behind thy backe doth stond.