That Redcrosse knight, perdie, I never slew,
But had he beene, where earst his arms were lent,[°]
Th' enchaunter vaine[°] his errour should not rew:
But thou his errour shalt,[°] I hope, now proven trew.
XLIII
Therewith they gan, both furious and fell,
To thunder blowes, and fiersly to assaile
Each other bent his enimy to quell,
That with their force they perst both plate and maile,