Her clowdy care into a wrathfull stowre,
The mist of griefe dissolu’d, did[940] into vengeance powre.[941]
Eftsoones her goodly shield addressing faire, xiv
That mortall speare she in her hand did take,
And vnto battell did her selfe prepaire.
The knight approching, sternely her bespake;
Sir knight, that doest thy voyage rashly make
By this forbidden way in my despight,
Ne doest by others death ensample take,
I read thee soone retyre, whiles thou hast might,