That clasping trees around with witch-like arms,
Poison'd their life out, and still held them dead.
And at one side there stretch'd a stagnant pool,
Unstirr'd by any grateful breeze, but thick
With slimy leaves, and rushes all forlorn,
And every footstep on the spongy bank
Fill'd straightway with the oozing of decay.
The Beast hid in the bosom of this wood;
And as Guy went he saw two eyes of fire
Burn through the darkness of the wood, like blasts
Sent from a smith's forge suddenly at night.
But, nought dismay'd, he bent his bow of steel,
And sent an arrow whirring through the leaves.
He heard the shaft ring on the monster's ribs,
And backward leap, as when a falchion strikes
Full on a warrior's casque with fiery force;
Whereat with roaring horrible to hear,
Like storm-winds belching through a cavern's mouth,
Forth rush'd the monster, furious and grim,
With open jaws and reeking breath at Guy;
Who, leaping nimbly back, put forth his strength,
And struck her full between the eyes a blow
That made the stout axe quiver in his hand.
But, nothing hurt, the madden'd Beast rush'd on,
And nigh o'erwhelm'd him in her headlong course,
Denting his breastplate, wrought of temper'd steel,
With the close home-thrust of her pointed horns.
But Guy, swift wheeling round his snorting steed,
Thought on his Phoelice, and, with mighty strength,
Launch'd forth a stroke that made the thick blood flow
In loathsome torrents from a gaping wound.
So, cheer'd at heart, he thunder'd blow on blow,
Till, with a bellow of despair and pain,
The monster tore the earth, and, writhing, died.

And when Guy saw that he had slain the Beast,
He was right glad, and full of sweet content.
And so he wiped his blood-stain'd battle-axe,
And rode with lighten'd heart in haste away
To bear the welcome tidings to the town.
And as he pass'd, or that he dreamt, or saw,
It seem'd as though the land bloom'd up again,
And sunshine fill'd the air with hope and life.
And so he bore the tidings to the town--
And when the people heard the Beast was dead,
They gather'd round with tears and cries of joy,
And scarce found words to thank and honour him.
And one brought forth her babe, and held him up,
And cried, "Look, child upon him, that your soul
May know the fashion of a noble man!"

But still he told no man that he was Guy.

And all desired to lead him to the King,
But he would not, and turn'd another way--
"Nay! friends," said he, "I need no recompense.
F