Xii

The Geaunt strooke so maynly mercilesse, That could have overthrowne a stony towre, And were not heavenly grace, that did him blesse, He had beene pouldred all, as thin as flowre: But he was wary of that deadly stowre, And lightly lept from underneath the blow: Yet so exceeding was the villeins powre, That with the wind it did him overthrow, And all his sences stound, that still he lay full low.