Xxxvii

A gentle youth, his dearely loved Squire, His speare of heben wood behind him bare, Whose harmefull head, thrice heated in the fire, Had riven many a brest with pikehead square: A goodly person, and could menage faire His stubborne steed with curbed canon bit, Who under him did trample° as the aire, And chauft, that any on his backe should sit; The yron rowels into frothy fome he bit.