This Fame beholdeth what is doone in heaven, on sea, and land,And what is wrought in all the world he layes to understand.He gave the Trojans warning that the Greekes with valeant men And shippes approched, that unwares they could not take them then.For Hector and the Trojan folk well armed were at handTo keepe the coast and bid them bace before they came aland.Protesilay by fatall doome was first that dyde in feeldOf Hectors speare: and after him great numbers mo were killd Of valeant men. That battell did the Greeks full deerly cost.And Hector with his Phrygian folk of blood no little lost,In trying what the Greekes could doo. The shore was red with blood.And now king Cygnet, Neptunes sonne, had killed where he stoodA thousand Greekes. And now the stout Achilles causd to stay His Charyot: and his lawnce did slea whole bandes of men that day.And seeking Cygnet through the feeld or Hector, he did stray.At last with Cygnet he did meete. For Hector had delayUntill the tenth yeare afterward. Then hasting foorth his horsesWith flaxen manes, ageinst his fo his Chariot he enforces. And brandishing his shaking dart, he sayd: O noble wyght,A comfort let it bee to thee that such a valeant knyghtAs is Achilles killeth thee. In saying so he threwA myghty dart, which though it hit the mark at which it flew,Yit perst it not the skinne at all. Now when this blunted blowe Had hit on Cygnets brest, and did no print of hitting showe,Thou, Goddesse sonne (quoth Cygnet), for by fame we doo thee knowe.Why woondrest at mee for to see I can not wounded bee?(Achilles woondred much thereat.) This helmet which yee seeBedect with horses yellow manes, this sheeld that I doo beare, Defend mee not. For ornaments alonly I them weare.For this same cause armes Mars himself likewyse. I will disarmeMyself, and yit unrazed will I passe without all harme.It is to sum effect, not borne to bee of Neryes race,So that a man be borne of him that with threeforked mace :Rules Nereus and his daughters too, and all the sea besyde.This sayd, he at Achilles sent a dart that should abydeUppon his sheeld. It perced through the steele and through nyne foldOf Oxen hydes, and stayd uppon the tenth. Achilles boldDid wrest it out, and forcybly did throwe the same agayne.His bodye beeing hit ageine, unwounded did remayne,And cleere from any print of wound. The third went eeke in vayne.And yit did Cygnet to the same give full his naked brist.Achilles chafed like a Bull that in the open listWith dreadfull homes dooth push ageinst the scarlet clothes that there Are hanged up to make him feerce, and when he would them teareDooth fynd his wounds deluded. Then Achilles lookt upponHis Javelings socket, if the head thereof were looce or gone.The head stacke fast. My hand byleeke is weakened then (quoth lice),And all the force it had before is spent on one I see. For sure I am it was of strength, both when I first downe threwLyrnessus walles, and when I did Ile Tenedos subdew,And eeke Aetions Thebe with her proper blood embrew.And when so many of the folke of Tewthranie I slew,That with theyr blood Caycus streame became of purple hew. And when the noble Telephus did of my Dart of steeleThe dowble force, of wounding and of healing also feele.Yea even the heapes of men slayne heere by mee, that on this strondAre lying still to looke uppon, doo give to understondThat this same hand of myne both had and still hath strength. This sed, (As though he had distrusted all his dooings ere that sted,)He threw a Dart ageinst a man of Lycia land that hyghtMenetes, through whose Curets and his brest he strake him quyght.And when he saw with dying limbes him sprawling on the ground,He stepped to him streyght, and pulld the Javeling from the wound, And sayd alowd: This is the hand, this is the selfsame dartWith which my hand did strike even now Menetes to the hart.Ageinst my tother Copemate will I use the same: I prayTo God it may have like successe. This sed, without delayHe sent it toward Cygnet, and the weapon did not stray, Nor was not shunned. Insomuch it lighted full upponHis shoulder: and it gave a rappe as if uppon sum stonIt lyghted had, rebownding backe. Howbeeit where it hit,Achilles sawe it bloodye, and was vaynly glad of it.For why there was no wound. It was Menetes blood. Then lept He hastly from his Charyot downe, and like a madman steptTo carelesse Cygnet with his swoord. He sawe his swoord did pareHis Target and his morion bothe. But when it toucht the bare,His bodye was so hard, it did the edge thereof abate.He could no lengar suffer him to tryumph in that rate, But with the pommell of his swoord did thump him on the pate,And bobd him well about the brewes a doozen tymes and more,And preacing on him as he still gave backe amaazd him sore,And troubled him with buffetting, not respetting a whit.Then Cygnet gan to bee afrayd, and mistes beegan to flit Before his eyes, and dimd his syght. And as he still did yeeld,In giving back, by chaunce he met a stone amid the feeld,Ageinst the which Achilles thrust him back with all his myght,And throwing him ageinst the ground, did cast him bolt upryght.Then bearing bostowsely with both his knees ageinst his chest, And leaning with his elbowes and his target on his brest,He shet his headpeece cloce and just, and underneathe his chinSo hard it straynd, that way for breath was neyther out nor in,And closed up the vent of lyfe. And having gotten soThe upper hand, he went about to spoyle his vanquisht fo. But nought he in his armour found. For Neptune had as thoTransformd him to the fowle whose name he bare but late ago.

This labour, this encounter brought the rest of many dayes,And eyther partye in theyr strength a whyle from battell stayes.Now whyle the Phrygians watch and ward uppon the walles of Troy, And Greekes likewyse within theyr trench, there came a day of joy,In which Achilles for his luck in Cygnets overthrow,A Cow in way of sacrifyse on Pallas did bestowe,Whose inwards when he had uppon the burning altar castAnd that the acceptable fume had through the ayer past To Godward, and the holy rytes had had theyr dewes, the restWas set on boords for men to eate in disshes fynely drest.The princes sitting downe, did feede uppon the rosted flesh,And both theyr thirst and present cares with wyne they did refresh.Not Harpes, nor songs, nor hollowe flutes to heere did them delyght. They talked till they nye had spent the greatest part of nyght.And all theyr communication was of feates of armes in fyghtThat had beene doone by them or by theyr foes. And every wyghtDelyghts to uppen oftentymes by turne as came aboutThe perills and the narrow brunts himself had shifted out. For what thing should bee talkt beefore Achilles rather? OrWhat kynd of things than such as theis could seeme more meeter forAchilles to bee talking of? But in theyr talk most breemeWas then Achilles victory of Cygnet. It did seemeA woonder that the flesh of him should bee so hard and tough As that no weapon myght have powre to raze or perce it through,But that it did abate the edge of steele: it was a thingThat both Achilles and the Greekes in woondrous maze did bring.Then Nestor sayd: This Cygnet is the person now aloneOf your tyme that defyed steele, and could bee perst of none. But I have seene now long ago one Cene of Perrhebye,I sawe one Cene of Perrhebye a thousand woundes defyeWith unatteynted bodye. In mount Othris he did dwell:And was renowmed for his deedes: (and which in him ryght wellA greater woonder did appeere) he was a woman borne. This uncouth made them all much more amazed than beforne,And every man desyred him to tell it. And amongThe rest, Achilles sayd: Declare, I pray thee (for wee longTo heare it every one of us), O eloquent old man,The wisedome of our age: what was that Cene and how he wan Another than his native shape, and in what rode, or inWhat fyght or skirmish, tweene you first acquaintance did beegin,And who in fyne did vanquish him if any vanquisht him.Then Nestor: Though the length of tyme have made my senses dim,And dyvers things erst seene in youth now out of mynd be gone: Yit beare I still mo things in mynd: and df them all is noneAmong so many both of peace and warre, that yit dooth takeMore stedfast roote in memorye. And if that tyme may makeA man great store of things through long continuance for to see,Two hundred yeeres already of my lyfe full passed bee, And now I go uppon the third. This foresayd Ceny wasThe daughter of one Elatey. In beawty shee did passeThe maydens all of Thessaly. From all the Cities byeAnd from thy Cities also, O Achilles, came (for whyShee was thy countrywoman) store of wooers who in vayne In hope to win her love did take great travail, suit and payne.Thy father also had perchaunce attempted heere to matchtBut that thy moothers maryage was alreadye then dispatcht,Or shee at least affyanced. But Ceny matcht with none,Howbeeit as shee on the shore was walking all alone, The God of sea did ravish her. (So fame dooth make report.)And Neptune for the great delight he had in Venus sport,Sayd: Ceny, aske mee what thou wilt, and I will give it thee.(This also bruited is by fame.) The wrong heere doone to mee(Quoth Ceny) makes mee wish great things. And therfore to th'entent I may no more constreyned bee to such a thing, consentI may no more a woman bee. And if thou graunt thereto,It is even all that I desyre, or wish thee for to doo.In bacer tune theis latter woordes were uttred, and her voyceDid seeme a mannes voyce as it was in deede. For to her choyce The God of sea had given consent. He graunted him besydeThat free from wounding and from hurt he should from thence abyde,And that he should not dye of steele. Right glad of this same grauntAway went Ceny, and the feeldes of Thessaly did haunt,And in the feates of Chevalrye from that tyme spent his lyfe.

The over bold Ixions sonne had taken to his wyfeHippodame. And kevering boordes in bowres of boughes of treesHis Clowdbred brothers one by one he placed in degrees.There were the Lordes of Thessaly. I also was amongThe rest: a cheerefull noyse of feast through all the Pallace roong. Sum made the altars smoke, and sum the brydale carrolls soong.Anon commes in the mayden bryde, a goodly wench of face,With wyves and maydens following her with comly gate and grace.Wee sayd that sir Pirithous was happy in his wyfe:Which handsell had deceyved us wellneere through soodeine stryfe. For of the cruell Centawres thou most cruell Ewryt, thoLike as thy stomacke was with wyne farre over charged: soAs soone as thou behilldst the bryde, thy hart began to frayne,And doubled with thy droonkennesse thy raging lust did reigne.The feast was troubled by and by with tables overthrowen. The bryde was hayled by the head, so farre was furye growen.Feerce Ewryt caught Hippodame, and every of the restCaught such as commed next to hand, or such as likte him best.It was the lively image of a Citie tane by foes.The house did ring of womens shreekes. We all up quickly rose. And first sayd Theseus thus: What aylst? art mad, O Ewrytus?That darest (seeing mee alive) misuse Pirithous?Not knowing that in one thou doost abuse us both? And leastHe myght have seemd to speake in vayne, he thrust way such as preastAbout the bryde, and tooke her from them freating sore thereat. No answere made him Ewrytus: (for such a deede as thatDefended could not bee with woordes) but with his sawcye fistHe flew at gentle Theseus face, and bobd him on the brist.By chaunce hard by, an auncient cuppe of image woork did stand,Which being huge, himself more huge sir Theseus tooke in hand, And threw't at Ewryts head. He spewd as well at mouth as woundMixt cloddes of blood, and brayne and wyne, and on the soyled groundLay sprawling bolt upryght. The death of him did set the rest,His dowblelimbed brothers, so on fyre, that all the questWith one voyce cryed out, Kill, kill. The wyne had given them hart. Theyr first encounter was with cuppes and cannes throwen overthwart,And brittle tankerds, and with boawles, pannes, dishes, potts, and trayes,Things serving late for meate and drinke, and then for bluddy frayes.First Amycus, Ophions sonne, without remorse beganTo reeve and rob the brydehouse of his furniture. He ran And pulled downe a Lampbeame full of lyghtes, and lifting itAloft like one that with an Ax dooth fetch his blowe to slitAn Oxis necke in sacrifyse, he on the forehead hitA Lapith named Celadon, and crusshed so his bonesThat none could know him by the face: both eyes flew out at ones. His nose was beaten backe and to hispallat battred flat.One Pelates, a Macedone, exceeding wroth therat,Pulld out a maple tressles foote, and napt him in the necks,That bobbing with his chin ageinst his brest to ground he becks.And as he spitted out his teeth with blackish blood, he lent Another blowe to Amycus, which streyght to hell him sent.Gryne standing by and lowring with a fell grim visage atThe smoking Altars, sayd: Why use we not theis same? with thatHe caught a myghty altar up with burning fyre thereon,And it among the thickest of the Lapithes threw anon. And twoo he over whelmd therewith calld Brote and Orion.This Orions moother, Mycale, is knowne of certeintyeThe Moone resisting to have drawne by witchcraft from the skye.Full dearely shalt thou by it (quoth Exadius) may I getA weapon: and with that in stead of weapon, he did set His hand uppon a vowd harts horne that on a Pynetree hyeWas nayld, and with two tynes therof he strake out eyther eyeOf Gryne: whereof sum stacke uppon the home, and sum did flyeUppon his beard, and there with blood like jelly mixt did lye.A flaming fyrebrand from amids an Altar Rhaetus snatcht, With which uppon the leftsyde of his head Charaxus latchtA blow that crackt his skull. The blaze among his yellow heareRan sindging up, as if dry come with lightning blasted were.And in his wound the seared blood did make a greevous sound,As when a peece of steele red hot tane up with tongs is drownd In water by the smith, it spirts and hisseth in the trowgh.Charaxus from his curled heare did shake the fyre, and thowghHe wounded were, yit caught he up uppon his shoulders twayneA stone, the Jawme of eyther doore that well would loade a wayne.The masse theof was such as that it would not let him hit His fo. It lighted short: and with the falling downe of itA mate of his that Comet hyght, it all in peeces smit.Then Rhaete restreyning not his joy, sayd thus: I would the rowtOf all thy mates myght in the selfsame maner prove them stowt.And with his halfeburnt brond the wound he searched new agayne, Not ceasing for to lay on loade uppon his pate amayne,Untill his head was crusht, and of his scalp the bones did swimAmong his braynes. In jolly ruffe he passed streyght from himTo Coryt, and Euagrus, and to Dryant on a rowe.Of whom when Coryt (on whose cheekes yoong mossy downe gan grow) Was slayne, What prayse or honour (quoth Euagrus) hast thou gotBy killing of a boy? mo woordes him Rhetus suffred notTo speake, but in his open mouth did thrust his burning brand,And downe his throteboll to his chest. Then whisking in his handHis fyrebrand round about his head he feercely did assayle The valyant Dryant. But with him he could not so prevayle.For as he triumpht in his lucke, proceeding for to makeContinuall slaughter of his foes, sir Dryant with a stake(Whose poynt was hardned in the fyre) did cast at him a foyneAnd thrust him through the place in which the neck and shoulders joyne. He groand and from his cannell bone could scarcely pull the stake.And beeing foyled with his blood to flyght he did him take.Arnaeus also ran away, and Lycidas likewyse.And Medon (whose ryght shoulderplate was also wounded) flyes.So did Pisenor, so did Cawne, and so did Mermeros Who late outronning every man, now wounded slower goes:And so did Phole, and Menelas, and Abas who was woontTo make a spoyle among wylde Boares as oft as he did hunt:And eeke the wyzarde Astylos who counselled his matesTo leave that fray: but he to them in vayne of leaving prates. He eeke to Nessus (who for feare of wounding seemed shye)Sayd: Fly not, thou shalt scape this fray of Hercles bowe to dye.But Lycid and Ewrinomos, and Imbreus, and AreEscapte not death. Sir Dryants hand did all alike them spare.Cayneius also (though that he in flying were not slacke,) Yit was he wounded on the face: for as he looked backe,A weapons poynt did hit him full midway betweene the eyes,Wheras the noze and forehead meete. For all this deane, yit lyesAphipnas snorting fast asleepe not mynding for to wake,Wrapt in a cloke of Bearskinnes which in Ossa mount were take.

And in his lither hand he hilld a potte of wyne. Whom whenThat Phorbas saw (although in vayne) not medling with them, thenHe set his fingars to the thong: and saying: Thou shalt drinkThy wyne with water taken from the Stygian fountaynes brink,He threw his dart at him. The dart (as he that tyme by chaunce Lay bolt upright uppon his backe) did through his throteboll glaunce.He dyde and felt no payne at all. The blacke swart blood gusht out,And on the bed and in the potte fell flushing lyke a spout.I saw Petreius go about to pull out of the groundAn Oken tree. But as he had his armes about it round, And shaakt it too and fro to make it looce, Pirithous castA Dart which nayled to the tree his wrything stomacke fast.Through prowesse of Pirithous (men say) was Lycus slayne.Through prowesse of Pirithous dyde Crome. But they both twayneLesse honour to theyr conquerour were, than Dyctis was, or than Was Helops. Helops with a dart was striken, which through ranHis head, and entring at the ryght eare to the left eare went.And Dyctis from a slipprye knappe downe slyding, as he mentTo shonne Perithous preacing on, fell headlong downe, and withHis hugenesse brake the greatest Ash that was in all the frith, And goard his gutts uppon the stump. To wreake his death comes Phare:And from the mount a mighty rocke with bothe his handes he tare:Which as he was about to throwe, Duke Theseus did prevent,And with an Oken plant uppon his mighty elbowe lentHim such a blowe, as that he brake the bones, and past no further. For leysure would not serve him then his maymed corce to murther.He lept on hygh Bianors backe, who none was woont to beareBesydes himself. Ageinst his sydes his knees fast nipping were,And with his left hand taking hold uppon his foretoppe heareHe cuft him with his knubbed plant about the frowning face, And made his wattled browes to breake. And with his Oken maceHe overthrew Nedimnus: and Lycespes with his dart,And Hippasus whose beard did hyde his brest the greater part:And Riphey tallar than the trees, and Therey who was woontAmong the hilles of Thessaly for cruell Beares to hunt, And beare them angry home alyve. It did Demoleon spyghtThat Theseus had so good successe and fortune in his fyght.An old long Pynetree rooted fast he strave with all his myghtTo pluck up whole bothe trunk and roote, which when he could not bringTo passe, he brake it off, and at his emnye did it fling. But Theseus by admonishment of heavenly Pallas (soHe would have folke beleve it were) start backe a great way froThe weapon as it came. Yit fell it not without some harme.It cut from Crantors left syde bulke, his shoulder, brest, and arme.This Grantor was thy fathers Squyre (Achilles) and was given Him by Amyntor ruler of the Dolops, who was drivenBy battell for to give him as an hostage for the peaceTo bee observed faythfully. When Peleus in the preaceA great way off behilld him thus falne dead of this same wound,O Grantor, deerest man to mee of all above the ground,Hold heere an obitgift hee sayd: and both with force of hartAnd hand, at stout Demoleons head he threw an asshen dart,Which brake the watling of his ribbes, and sticking in the bone,Did shake. He pulled out the steale with much adoo alone.The head therof stacke still behynd among his lungs and lyghts. Enforst to courage with his payne, he ryseth streight uprights,And pawing at his emny with his horsish feete, he smyghtsUppon him. Peleus bare his strokes uppon his burganet,And fenst his shoulders with his sheeld, and evermore did setHis weapon upward with the poynt, which by his shoulders perst Through both his brestes at one full blowe. Howbee't your father erstHad killed Hyle and Phlegrye, and Hiphinous aloofAnd Danes who boldly durst at hand his manhod put in proof.To theis was added Dorylas, who ware uppon his headA cap of woolves skinne. And the homes of Oxen dyed red With blood were then his weapon. I (for then my courage gaveMee strength) sayd: See how much thy homes lesse force than Iron have.And therewithall with manly might a dart at him I drave.Which when he could not shonne, he clapt his right hand flat upponHis forehead where the wound should bee. For why his hand anon Was nayled to his forehead fast. Hee roared out amayne.And as he stood amazed and began to faynt for payne,Your father Peleus (for he stood hard bv him) strake him underThe middle belly with his swoord, and ript his womb asunder.Out girdes mee Dorill streyght, and trayles his guttes uppon the ground And trampling underneath his feete did breake them, and they woundAbout his leggs so snarling, that he could no further go,But fell downe dead with empty womb. Nought booted Cyllar thoHis beawtye in that frentick fray, (at leastwyse if wee grauntThat any myght in that straunge shape, of natures beawtye vaunt.) His beard began but then to bud: his beard was like the gold:So also were his yellowe lokes, which goodly to beholdMidway beneath his shoulders hung. There rested in his faceA sharpe and lively cheerfulnesse with sweete and pleasant grace.His necke, brest, shoulders, armes, and hands, as farre as he was man, Were such as never carvers woork yit stayne them could or can.His neather part likewyse (which was a horse) was every whitFull equall with his upper part, or little woorse than it.For had yee given him horses necke, and head, he was a beastFor Castor to have ridden on. So bourly was his brest: So handsome was his backe to beare a saddle: and his heareWas blacke as jeate, but that his tayle and feete milk whyghtish were.Full many Females of his race did wish him to theyr make.But only dame Hylonome for lover he did take.Of all the halfbrutes in the woodes there did not any dwell More comly than Hylonome. She usde herself so wellIn dalyance, and in loving, and in uttring of her love,That shee alone hilld Cyllarus. As much as did behoveIn suchye limbes, shee trimmed them as most the eye might move.With combing, smoothe shee made her heare: shee wallowed her full oft In Roses and in Rosemarye, or Violets sweete and soft:Sumtyme shee caryed Lillyes whyght: and twyce a day shee washtHer visage in the spring that from the toppe of Pagase past:And in the streame shee twyce a day did bath her limbes: and onHer left syde or her shoulders came the comlyest things, and none But fynest skinnes of choycest beasts. Alike eche loved other:Togither they among the hilles roamd up and downe: togitherThey went to covert: and that tyme togither they did enterThe Lapithes house, and there the fray togither did adventer.A dart on Cyllars left syde came, (I know not who it sent) Which sumwhat underneathe his necke his brest asunder splent.As lyghtly as his hart was raazd, no sooner was the dartPluckt out, but all his bodye wext stark cold and dyed swart.Immediatly Hylonome his dying limbes up stayd,And put her hand uppon the wound to stoppe the blood, and layd Her mouth to his, and labored sore to stay his passing spryght.But when shee sawe him throughly dead, then speaking woordes which mightNot to my hearing come for noyse, shee stikt herself upponThe weapon that had gored him, and dyde with him anonEmbracing him beetweene her armes.

There also stood before Myne eyes the grim Pheocomes both man and horse who woreA Lyons skinne uppon his backe fast knit with knotts afore.He snatching up a timber log (which scarcely two good teemeOf Oxen could have stird) did throwe the same with force extreemeAt Phonolenyes sonne. The logge him all in fitters strake, And of his head the braynepan in a thousand peeces brake,That at his mouth, his eares, and eyes, and at his nosethrills too,His crusshed brayne came roping out as creame is woont to dooFrom sives or riddles made of wood, or as a Cullace outFrom streyner or from Colender. But as he went about To strippe him from his harnesse as he lay uppon the ground,(Your father knoweth this full well) my sword his gutts did wound,Teleboas and Cthonius bothe, were also slaine by mee.Sir Cthonius for his weapon had a forked bough of tree.The tother had a dart. His dart did wound mee. You may see The scarre therof remayning yit. Then was the tyme that IShould sent have beene to conquer Troy. Then was the tyme that IMyght through my force and prowesse, if not vanquish Hector stout,Yit at the least have hilld him wag, I put you out of Dout.But then was Hector no body: or but a babe. And now Am I forspent and worne with yeeres. What should I tell you howPiretus dyde by Periphas? Or wherefore should I makeLong processe for to tell you of sir Ampycus that strakeThe fowrefoote Oecle on the face with dart of Cornell tree,The which had neyther head nor poynt? Or how that Macaree Of Mountaine Pelithronye with a leaver lent a bloweTo Erigdupus on the brest which did him overthrowe?Full well I doo remember that Cymelius threw a dartWhich lyghted full in Nesseyes flank about his privie part.And think not you that Mops, the sonne of Ampycus, could doo No good but onely prophesye. This stout Odites whooHad bothe the shapes of man and horse, by Mopsis dart was slayne,And labouring for to speake his last he did but strive in vayne.For Mopsis dart togither nayld his toong and neather chappe,And percing through his throte did make a wyde and deadly gappe. Fyve men had Cene already slayne: theyr wounds I cannot say:The names and nomber of them all ryght well I beare away.The names of them were Stiphelus, and Brome, and Helimus,Pyracmon with his forest bill, and stout Antimachus.Out steppes the biggest Centawre there, huge Latreus, armed in Alesus of Aemathias spoyle slayne late before by him.His yeeres were mid tweene youth and age, his courage still was yoong,And on his abrun head hore heares peerd heere and there amoong.His furniture was then a swoord, a target and a lawnceAemathian like. To bothe the parts he did his face advaunce, And brandishing his weapon brave, in circlewyse did prawnceAbout, and stoutly spake theis woordes: And must I beare with yow,Dame Cenye? for none other than a moother (I avow)No better than a moother will I count thee whyle I live.Remembrest not what shape by birth dame nature did thee give? Forgettst thou how thou purchasedst this counterfetted shapeOf man? Consyderest what thou art by birth? and how for rapeThou art become the thing thou art? Go take thy distaffe, andThy spindle, and in spinning yarne go exercyse thy hand.Let men alone with feates of armes. As Latreus made this stout And scornefull taunting in a ring still turning him about,This Cenye with a dart did hit him full uppon the sydeWhere as the horse and man were joyned togither in a hyde.The strype made Latreus mad: and with his lawnce in rage he strackeUppon sir Cenyes naked ribbes. The lawnce rebounded backe Like haylestones from a tyled house, or as a man should patSmall stones uppon a dromslets head. He came more neere with that,And in his brawned syde did stryve to thrust his swoord. There wasNo way for swoord to enter in. Yit shalt thou not so passeMy handes (sayd he.) Well sith the poynt is blunted thou shalt dye Uppon the edge: and with that woord he fetcht his blow awrye,And sydling with a sweeping stroke along his belly smit.The strype did give a clinke as if it had on marble hit.And therewithall the swoord did breake, and on his necke did lyght.When Ceny had sufficiently given Latreus leave to smyght His flesh which was unmaymeable, Well now (quoth he) lets see,If my swoord able bee or no to byght the flesh of thee.In saying so, his dreadfull swoord as farre as it would goHe underneathe his shoulder thrust, and wrinching to and froAmong his gutts, made wound in wound. Behold with hydeous crye The dowblemembred Centawres sore abasht uppon him flye,And throwe theyr weapons all at him. Theyr weapons downe did fallAs if they had rebated beene, and Cenye for them allAbydes unstriken through. Yea none was able blood to drawe.The straungenesse of the cace made all amazed that it sawe. Fy, fy for shame (quoth Monychus) that such a rable canNot overcome one wyght alone, who scarcely is a man.Although (to say the very truthe) he is the man, and weeThrough fayntnesse that that he was borne by nature for to bee.What profits theis huge limbes of ours? what helpes our dowble force? Or what avayles our dowble shape of man as well as horseBy puissant nature joynd in one? I can not thinke that weeOf sovereigne Goddesse Juno were begot, or that wee beeIxions sonnes, who was so stout of courage and so hault,As that he durst on Junos love attempt to give assault. The emny that dooth vanquish us is scarcely half a manWhelme blocks, and stones, and mountaynes whole uppon his hard brayne pan:And presse yee out his lively ghoste with trees. Let timber chokeHis chappes, let weyght enforce his death in stead of wounding stroke.This sayd: by chaunce he gets a tree blowne downe by blustring blasts Of Southerne wynds, and on his fo with all his myght it casts,And gave example to the rest to doo the like. WithinA whyle the shadowes which did hyde mount Pelion waxed thin:And not a tree was left uppon mount Othris ere they went.Sir Cenye underneathe this greate huge pyle of timber pent, Did chauf and on his shoulders hard the heavy logges did beare.But when above his face and head the trees up stacked were,So that he had no venting place to drawe his breth: One whyleHe faynted: and another whyle he heaved at the pyle,To tumble downe the loggs that lay so heavy on his backe, And for to winne the open ayre ageine above the stacke:As if the mountayne Ida (lo) which yoonder we doo seeSo hygh, by earthquake at a tyme should chaunce to shaken bee.Men dowt what did become of him. Sum hold opinion thatThe burthen of the woodes had driven his soule to Limbo flat. But Mopsus sayd it was not so. For he did see a browneBird flying from amid the stacke and towring up and downe.It was the first tyme and the last that ever I behildThat fowle. When Mopsus softly saw him soring in the feeld,He looked wistly after him, and cryed out on hye: Hayle peerlesse perle of Lapith race, hayle Ceny, late agoA valeant knyght, and now a bird of whom there is no mo.The author caused men beleeve the matter to bee so.Our sorrow set us in a rage. It was too us a greefThat by so many foes one knyght was killd without releef. Then ceast wee not to wreake our teene till most was slaine in fyght,And that the rest discomfited were fled away by nyght.