And on her legs she painted buskins wore, iii Basted with bends of gold on euery side, And mailes betweene, and laced close afore: Vppon her thigh her Cemitare was tide, With an embrodered belt of mickell pride; And on her shoulder hung her shield, bedeckt Vppon the bosse with stones, that shined wide, As the faire Moone in her most full aspect, That to the Moone it mote be like in each respect. So forth she came out of the citty gate, iv With stately port and proud magnificence, Guarded with many damzels, that did waite Vppon her person for her sure defence, Playing on shaumes and trumpets, that from hence Their sound did reach vnto the heauens hight. So forth into the field she marched thence, Where was a rich Pauilion ready pight, Her to receiue, till time they should begin the fight. Then forth came _Artegall_ out of his tent, v All arm’d to point, and first the Lists did enter: Soone after eke came she, with fell intent, And countenaunce fierce, as hauing fully bent her, That battels vtmost triall to aduenter. The Lists were closed fast, to barre the rout From rudely pressing to the middle center; Which in great heapes them circled all about, Wayting, how Fortune would resolue that daungerous dout. The Trumpets sounded, and the field began; vi With bitter strokes it both began, and ended. She at the first encounter on him ran With furious rage, as if she had intended Out of his breast the very heart haue rended: But he that had like tempests often tride, From that first flaw him selfe right well defended. The more she rag’d, the more he did abide; She hewd, she foynd, she lasht, she laid on euery side. Yet still her blowes he bore, and her forbore, vii Weening at last to win aduantage new; Yet still her crueltie increased more, And though powre faild, her courage did accrew, Which fayling he gan fiercely her pursew. Like as a Smith that to his cunning feat The stubborne mettall seeketh to subdew, Soone as he feeles it mollifide with heat, With his great yron sledge doth strongly on it beat. So did Sir _Artegall_ vpon her lay, viii As if she had an yron anduile beene, That flakes of fire, bright as the sunny ray, Out of her steely armes were flashing seene, That all on fire ye would her surely weene. But with her shield so well her selfe she warded, From the dread daunger of his weapon keene, That all that while her life she safely garded: But he that helpe from her against her will discarded.