With faire disport and courting dalliaunce xiv She intertainde her louer all the way: But when she saw the knight his speare aduaunce, She soone left off[81] her mirth and wanton play, And bad her knight addresse him to the fray: His foe was nigh at hand. He prickt with pride And hope to winne his Ladies heart that day, Forth spurred fast: adowne his coursers side The red bloud trickling staind the way, as he did ride. The knight of the _Redcrosse_ when him he spide, xv Spurring so hote with rage dispiteous[82], Gan fairely couch his speare, and towards ride: Soone meete they both, both fell and furious, That daunted with their forces hideous, Their steeds do stagger, and amazed stand, And eke themselues too rudely rigorous, Astonied with the stroke of their owne hand, Do backe rebut, and each to other yeeldeth land. As when two rams stird with ambitious pride, xvi Fight for the rule of the rich fleeced flocke, Their horned fronts so fierce on either side Do meete, that with the terrour[83] of the shocke Astonied both, stand sencelesse[84] as a blocke, Forgetfull of the hanging victory: So stood these twaine, vnmoued as a rocke, Both staring fierce, and holding idely[85] The broken reliques of their former cruelty. The _Sarazin_ sore daunted with the buffe xvii Snatcheth his sword, and fiercely to him flies; Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with cuff: Each others equall puissaunce enuies, And through their iron sides with cruell[86] spies Does seeke to perce: repining courage yields No foote to foe. The flashing fier flies As from a forge out of their burning shields, And streames of purple bloud new dies[87] the verdant fields. Curse on that Crosse (quoth[88] then the _Sarazin_) xviii That keepes thy body from the bitter fit; Dead long ygoe I wote thou haddest bin, Had not that charme from thee forwarned it: But yet I warne thee now assured sitt, And hide thy head. Therewith vpon his crest With rigour[89] so outrageous he smitt, That a large share it hewd out of the rest, And glauncing downe his shield, from blame him fairely blest. Who thereat wondrous wroth, the sleeping spark xix Of natiue vertue gan eftsoones reuiue, And at his haughtie helmet making mark, So hugely stroke[90], that it the steele did riue, And cleft his head. He tumbling downe aliue, With bloudy mouth his mother earth did kis, Greeting his graue: his grudging ghost did striue With the fraile flesh; at last it flitted is, Whither[91] the soules do fly of men, that liue amis.