That like a lifelesse corse immoueable he stood.
But Artegall that golden belt vptooke, xxvii
The which of all her spoyle was onely left;
Which was not hers, as many it mistooke,
But Florimells owne girdle, from her reft,
While she was flying, like a weary weft,
From that foule monster, which did her compell
To perils great; which he vnbuckling eft,
Presented to the fayrest Florimell;
Who round about her tender wast it fitted well.