That smoot somtyme a tour to poudre,
And in his swifte coming [brende],
(30)
That so swythe gan descende,
As this foul, whan hit behelde
540
That I a-roume was in the felde;
And with his grimme pawes stronge,
Within his sharpe nayles longe,
Me, fleinge, at a swappe he [hente],