the fourth he gives such a blow that he leaves him fainting on the
field. After the fourth he goes at the fifth, and after him he attacks
the sixth. None of them could defend himself, but each was left silent
and mute. He stood in less fear of the others now, and more hardily
pressed after them, taking no further thought of the six dead men.

(Vv. 3749-3816.) Feeling no further care for them, he starts to present
a debt of shame and woe to the others who are leading the maid away. He
caught up with them, and made such an onslaught upon them as a hungry
and ravenous wolf makes when leaping upon its prey. Now he feels his
luck has come, when he can display his chivalry and bravery openly
before her who is his very life. Now may he die, if he does not rescue
her! And she, too, is at death's door from anxiety for his sake, though
she does not know that he is no near. Lance in rest, Cliges made an
attack which pleased him well; for he struck first one Saxon and then
another, so that with a single rush he carried them both to earth,
though it cost him his ashen lance. And they both fall in such distress,
being wounded in the body, that they have no power to rise again and
do him any harm or ill. The other four in bitter rage join in an attack
upon Cliges; but he neither quails nor trembles, and they are unable
to dislodge him from his seat. Quickly drawing his keen sword from its
sheath, in order to please her who awaits his love, he rode hard at a
Saxon and, striking him with his whetted blade, he severed his head and
half his neck from the body: such was the limit of his pity. Fenice, who
witnesses what transpires, does not know yet that this is Cliges. She
wishes that it were he, indeed, but because of the present danger she
says to herself that she would not have him there. Thus, doubly she
shows the devotion of a sweetheart, fearing at once his death, and
desiring that honour may be his. And Cliges sword in hand attacks the
other three, who face him bravely and puncture and split his shield. But
they are unable to lay hands upon him, or to pierce the meshes of his
hauberk. And whatever Cliges reaches cannot stand against his blow,
but must needs be split and torn apart; for he turns faster than a
top driven and lashed by the whip. Boldness and love, which holds him
enthralled, make him eager for the fray. He pressed the Saxons so hard
that he left them all dead and defeated, some only wounded, and others
dead--except one