So did the Faerie knight himselfe abeare, xix And stouped oft his head from shame to shield; No shame to stoupe, ones head more high to reare, And much to gaine, a litle for to yield; So stoutest knights doen oftentimes in field. But still the tyrant sternely at him layd, And did his yron axe so nimbly wield, That many wounds into his flesh it made, And with his burdenous blowes him sore did ouerlade. Yet when as fit aduantage he did spy, xx The whiles the cursed felon high did reare His cruell hand, to smite him mortally, Vnder his stroke he to him stepping neare, Right in the flanke him strooke with deadly dreare, That the gore bloud thence gushing grieuously, Did vnderneath him like a pond appeare, And all his armour did with purple dye; Thereat he brayed loud, and yelled dreadfully. Yet the huge stroke, which he before intended, xxi Kept on his course, as he did it direct, And with such monstrous poise adowne descended, That seemed nought could him from death protect: But he it well did ward with wise respect, And twixt him and the blow his shield did cast, Which thereon seizing, tooke no great effect, But byting deepe therein did sticke so fast, That by no meanes it backe againe he forth could wrast. Long while he tug’d and stroue, to get it out, xxii And all his powre applyed thereunto, That he therewith the knight drew all about: Nathlesse, for all that euer he could doe, His axe he could not from his shield vndoe. Which _Artegall_ perceiuing, strooke no more, But loosing soone his shield, did it forgoe, And whiles he combred was therewith so sore, He gan at him let driue more fiercely then afore. So well he him pursew’d, that at the last, xxiii He stroke[393] him with _Chrysaor_ on the hed, That with the souse thereof full sore aghast, He staggered to and fro in doubtfull sted. Againe whiles he him saw so ill bested, He did him smite with all his might and maine, That falling on his mother earth he fed: Whom when he saw prostrated on the plaine, He lightly reft his head, to ease him of his paine. Which when the people round about him saw, xxiv They shouted all for ioy of his successe, Glad to be quit from that proud Tyrants awe, Which with strong powre did them long time oppresse; And running all with greedie ioyfulnesse To faire _Irena_, at her feet did fall, And her adored with due humblenesse, As their true Liege and Princesse naturall; And eke her champions glorie sounded ouer all.