And high aduauncing his bloud-thirstie blade, xvi Stroke one of those deformed heads so sore, That of his puissance proud ensample made; His monstrous scalpe downe to his teeth it tore, And that misformed shape mis-shaped more: A sea of bloud gusht from the gaping wound, That her gay garments staynd with filthy gore, And ouerflowed all the field around; That ouer shoes in bloud he waded on the ground. Thereat he roared for exceeding paine, xvii That to haue heard, great horror would haue bred, And scourging th’emptie ayre with his long traine, Through great impatience of his grieued hed His gorgeous ryder from her loftie sted Would haue cast downe, and trod in durtie myre, Had not the Gyant soone her succoured; Who all enrag’d with smart and franticke yre, Came hurtling in full fierce, and forst the knight retyre. The force, which wont in two to be disperst, xviii In one alone left hand he now vnites, Which is through rage more strong then both were erst; With which his hideous club aloft he dites, And at his foe with furious rigour smites, That strongest Oake might seeme to ouerthrow: The stroke vpon his shield so heauie lites, That to the ground it doubleth him full low[276]: What mortall wight could euer beare so monstrous blow? And in his fall his shield, that couered was, xix Did loose his vele by chaunce, and open flew: The light whereof, that heauens light did pas, Such blazing brightnesse through the aier threw, That eye mote not the same endure to vew. Which when the Gyaunt spyde with staring eye, He downe let fall his arme, and soft withdrew His weapon huge, that heaued was on hye For to haue slaine the man, that on the ground did lye. And eke the fruitfull-headed beast, amaz’d xx At flashing beames of that sunshiny shield, Became starke blind, and all his senses daz’d, That downe he tumbled on the durtie field, And seem’d himselfe as conquered to yield. Whom when his maistresse proud perceiu’d to fall, Whiles yet his feeble feet for faintnesse reeld, Vnto the Gyant loudly she gan call, O helpe _Orgoglio_, helpe, or else we perish all. At her so pitteous cry was much amoou’d[277] xxi Her champion stout, and for to ayde his frend, Againe his wonted angry weapon proou’d: But all in vaine: for he has read his end In that bright shield, and all their[278] forces spend Themselues in vaine: for since that glauncing sight, He hath 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.