XXV

The knight was wroth to see his stroke beguyld,
  And smote againe with more outrageous might;
  But backe againe the sparckling steele recoyld,
  And left not any marke, where it did light, 220
  As if in Adamant rocke it had bene pight. 
  The beast impatient of his smarting wound,
  And of so fierce and forcible despight,
  Thought with his wings to stye above the ground;
But his late wounded wing unserviceable found. 225

XXVI

Then full of griefe and anguish vehement,
  He lowdly brayd, that like was never heard,
  And from his wide devouring oven[*] sent
  A flake of fire, that, flashing in his beard,
  Him all amazd, and almost made affeard:  230
  The scorching flame sore swinged all his face,
  And through his armour all his body seard,
  That he could not endure so cruell cace,
But thought his armes to leave, and helmet to unlace.

XXVII

Not that great Champion[*] of the antique world, 235
  Whom famous Poetes verse so much doth vaunt,
  And hath for twelve huge labours high extold,
  So many furies and sharpe fits did haunt,
  When him the poysond garment did enchaunt,
  With Centaures bloud and bloudie verses charm’d; 240
  As did this knight twelve thousand dolours daunt,
  Whom fyrie steele now burnt, that earst him arm’d,
That erst him goodly arm’d, now most of all him harm’d.

XXVIII

Faint, wearie, sore, emboyled, grieved, brent[*]
  With heat, toyle, wounds, armes, smart, and inward fire, 245
  That never man such mischiefes did torment;
  Death better were, death did he oft desire,
  But death will never come, when needes require. 
  Whom so dismayd when that his foe beheld,
  He cast to suffer him no more respire, 250
  But gan his sturdy sterne about to weld,
And him so strongly stroke, that to the ground him feld.

XXIX

It fortuned, (as faire it then befell,)
  Behind his backe unweeting, where he stood,
  Of auncient time there was a springing well, 255
  From which fast trickled forth a silver flood,
  Full of great vertues, and for med’cine good. 
  Whylome, before that cursed Dragon got
  That happy land, and all with innocent blood
  Defyld those sacred waves, it rightly hot 260
The well of life,[*] ne yet his vertues had forgot.

XXX

For unto life the dead it could restore,
  And guilt of sinfull crimes cleane wash away,
  Those that with sicknesse were infected sore
  It could recure, and aged long decay 265
  Renew, as one were borne that very day. 
  Both Silo[*] this, and Jordan did excell,
  And th’ English Bath,[*] and eke the German Spau;
  Ne can Cephise,[*] nor Hebrus match this well: 
Into the same the knight back overthrowen, fell. 270