Now yield you, caytiffs, to my will;
He cried with hideous roar;
Or else the wolves shall eat your flesh,
And ravens drink your gore.
Vain boaster, said the youthful knight, 45
I scorn thy threats and thee:
I trust to force thy brazen gates,
And set thy captives free.
Then putting spurs unto his steed,
He aim'd a dreadful thrust: 50
The spear against the gyant glanc'd,
And caus'd the blood to burst.
Mad and outrageous with the pain,
He whirl'd his mace of steel:
The very wind of such a blow 55
Had made the champion reel.
It haply mist; and now the knight
His glittering sword display'd,
And riding round with whirlwind speed
Oft made him feel the blade. 60
As when a large and monstrous oak
Unceasing axes hew:
So fast around the gyant's limbs
The blows quick-darting flew.
As when the boughs with hideous fall 65
Some hapless woodman crush:
With such a force the enormous foe
Did on the champion rush.
A fearful blow, alas! there came,
Both horse and knight it took. 70
And laid them senseless in the dust;
So fatal was the stroke.
Then smiling forth a hideous grin,
The gyant strides in haste,
And, stooping, aims a second stroke: 75
"Now caytiff breathe thy last!"
But ere it fell, two thundering blows
Upon his scull descend:
From Ursine's knotty club they came,
Who ran to save his friend. 80