It fortuned out of the thickest wood A ramping Lyon° rushed suddainly, Hunting full greedy after salvage blood; Soone as the royall virgin he did spy, 40 With gaping mouth at her ran greedily, To have attonce devourd her tender corse: But to the pray when as he drew more ny, His bloody rage asswaged with remorse, And with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse. 45
In stead thereof he kist her wearie feet, And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong, As he her wronged innocence did weet. O how can beautie maister the most strong, And simple truth subdue avenging wrong? 50 Whose yeelded pride° and proud submission, Still dreading death, when she had marked long, Her hart gan melt in great compassion, And drizling teares did shed for pure affection.
The Lyon Lord of every beast in field, 55 Quoth she, his princely puissance doth abate, And mightie proud to humble weake does yield, Forgetfull of the hungry rage, which late Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate: But he my Lyon, and my noble Lord, 60 How does he find in cruell hart to hate, Her that him lov'd, and ever most adord, As the God of my life? why hath he me abhord?
Redounding teares did choke th' end of her plaint, Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood; 65 And sad to see her sorrowfull constraint The kingly beast upon her gazing stood; With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood. At last in close hart shutting up her paine, Arose the virgin borne of heavenly brood, 70 And to her snowy Palfrey got againe, To seeke her strayed Champion, if she might attaine.
The Lyon would not leave her desolate, But with her went along, as a strong gard Of her chast person, and a faithfull mate 75 Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard: Still when she slept, he kept both watch and ward,° And when she wakt, he waited diligent, With humble service to her will prepard: From her faire eyes he tooke commaundement, 80 And ever by her lookes conceived her intent.
Long she thus traveiled through deserts wyde, By which she thought her wandring knight shold pas, Yet never shew of living wight espyde; Till that at length she found the troden gras, 85 In which the tract of peoples footing was, Under the steepe foot of a mountaine hore; The same she followes, till at last she has A damzell spyde° slow footing her before, That on her shoulders sad a pot of water bore. 90