And by good fortune the plaine champion wonne:
Where looking all about, where he mote fynd
Some place of succour to content his mynd,
At length he heard vnder the forrests syde
A voice, that seemed of some woman kynd,
Which to her selfe lamenting loudly cryde,
And oft complayn’d of fate, and fortune oft defyde.
To whom approching, when as she perceiued xxvii
A stranger wight in place, her plaint she stayd,
As if she doubted to haue bene deceiued,