Xxi

At her so pitteous cry was much amoov'd Her champion stout, and for to ayde his frend, Againe his wonted angry weapon proov'd: But all in vaine: for he has read his end In that bright shield, and all their forces spend Themselves in vaine: for since that glauncing sight, He had 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.