English poem
Xiv
So daunted when the Geaunt saw the knight, His heavie hand he heaved up on hye, And him to dust thought to have battred quight, Untill Duessa loud to him gan crye; O great Orgoglio, greatest under skye, O hold thy mortall hand for Ladies sake, Hold for my sake, and do him not to dye,° But vanquisht thine eternall bondslave make, And me, thy worthy meed, unto thy Leman take.