And eke their dame halfe dead did hide her self for feare.
Long they her sought, yet no where could they finde her, xxv
That sure they ween’d she was escapt away:
But Talus, that could like a limehound winde her,
And all things secrete wisely could bewray,
At length found out, whereas she hidden lay
Vnder an heape of gold. Thence he her drew
By the faire lockes, and fowly did array,
Withouten pitty of her goodly hew,
That Artegall him selfe her seemelesse plight did rew.