XVIII
Curse on that Crosse (quoth then the Sarazin),
That keepes thy body from the bitter fit;[°]
Dead long ygoe I wote thou haddest bin,
Had not that charme from thee forwarned it:
But yet I warne thee now assured sitt,[°]
And hide thy head. Therewith upon his crest
With rigour so outrageous[°] he smitt,
That a large share[°] it hewd out of the rest,
And glauncing down his shield from blame him fairly blest.[°]