He was, to weete, a stout and sturdy thiefe, 145 Wont to robbe Churches of their ornaments, And poore mens boxes of their due reliefe, Which given was to them for good intents; The holy Saints of their rich vestiments He did disrobe, when all men carelesse slept, 150 And spoild the Priests of their habiliments, Whiles none the holy things in safety kept; Then he by conning sleights in at the window crept.
And all that he by right or wrong could find, Unto this house he brought, and did bestow 155 Upon the daughter of this woman blind, Abessa, daughter of Corceca slow, With whom he whoredome usd, that few did know, And fed her fat with feast of offerings, And plentie, which in all the land did grow; 160 Ne spared he to give her gold and rings: And now he to her brought part of his stolen things.
Thus long the dore with rage and threats he bet, Yet of those fearfull women none durst rize, The Lyon frayed them, him in to let: 165 He would no longer stay him to advize,° But open breakes the dore in furious wize, And entring is; when that disdainfull beast Encountring fierce, him suddaine doth surprize, And seizing cruell clawes on trembling brest, 170 Under his Lordly foot him proudly hath supprest.
Him booteth not resist,° nor succour call, His bleeding hart is in the vengers hand, Who streight him rent in thousand peeces small, And quite dismembred hath: the thirsty land 175 Drunke up his life; his corse left on the strand. His fearefull friends weare out the wofull night, Ne dare to weepe, nor seeme to understand The heavie hap, which on them is alight, Affraid, least to themselves the like mishappen might. 180
Now when broad day the world discovered has, Up Una rose, up rose the Lyon eke, And on their former journey forward pas, In wayes unknowne, her wandring knight to seeke, With paines farre passing that long wandring Greeke,° 185 That for his love refused deitie; Such were the labours of his Lady meeke, Still seeking him, that from her still did flie; Then furthest from her hope, when most she weened nie.
Soone as she parted thence, the fearfull twaine, 190 That blind old woman and her daughter deare,° Came forth, and finding Kirkrapine there slaine, For anguish great they gan to rend their heare, And beat their brests, and naked flesh to teare. And when they both had wept and wayld their fill, 195 Then forth they ran like two amazed deare, Halfe mad through malice, and revenging will, To follow her, that was the causer of their ill.