And whiles he combred was therewith so sore,
He gan at him let driue more fiercely then afore.
So well he him pursew’d, that at the last, xxiii
He stroke[393] him with Chrysaor on the hed,
That with the souse thereof full sore aghast,
He staggered to and fro in doubtfull sted.
Againe whiles he him saw so ill bested,
He did him smite with all his might and maine,
That falling on his mother earth he fed:
Whom when he saw prostrated on the plaine,