Much was the man encombred with his hold, In feare to lose his weapon in his paw, Ne wist yet, how his talaunts to unfold; For harder was from Cerberus greedy jaw To plucke a bone, then from his cruell claw 365 To reave by strength the griped gage° away: Thrise he assayd it from his foot to draw, And thrise in vaine to draw it did assay, It booted nought to thinke to robbe him of his pray.
Tho when he saw no power might prevaile, 370 His trustie sword he cald to his last aid, Wherewith he fiercely did his foe assaile, And double blowes about him stoutly laid, That glauncing fire out of the yron plaid; As sparckles from the Andvile use to fly, 375 When heavy hammers on the wedge are swaid; Therewith at last he forst him to unty One of his grasping feete, him to defend thereby.
The other foot, fast fixed on his shield, Whenas no strength, nor stroks mote him constraine 380 To loose, ne yet the warlike pledge to yield, He smot thereat with all his might and maine, That nought so wondrous puissaunce might sustaine; Upon the joint the lucky steele did light, And made such way, that hewd it quite in twaine; 385 The paw yett missed not his minisht might,° But hong still on the shield, as it at first was pight.
For griefe thereof and divelish despight,° From his infernall fournace forth he threw Huge flames, that dimmed all the heavens light, 390 Enrold in duskish smoke and brimstone blew: As burning Aetna from his boyling stew Doth belch out flames, and rockes in peeces broke, And ragged ribs of mountains molten new, Enwrapt in coleblacke clouds and filthy smoke, 395 That all the land with stench, and heaven with horror choke.
The heate whereof, and harmefull pestilence So sore him noyd, that forst him to retire A little backward for his best defence, To save his body from the scorching fire, 400 Which he from hellish entrailes did expire. It chaunst (eternall God that chaunce did guide,) As he recoiled backward, in the mire His nigh forwearied feeble feet did slide, And downe he fell, with dread of shame sore terrifide. 405
There grew a goodly tree° him faire beside, Loaden with fruit and apples rosie red, As they in pure vermilion had beene dide, Whereof great vertues over all were red°: For happy life to all which thereon fed, 410 And life eke everlasting did befall: Great God it planted in that blessed sted With his Almighty hand, and did it call The tree of life, the crime of our first fathers fall.°