At sight thereof his cruell minded hart xiii
Empierced was with pittifull regard,
That his sharpe sword he threw from him apart,
Cursing his hand that had that visage mard:
No hand so cruell, nor no hart so hard,
But ruth of beautie will it mollifie.
By this vpstarting from her swoune, she star’d
A while about her with confused eye;
Like one that from his dreame is waked suddenlye.
Soone as the knight she there by her did spy, xiv