In lymie snares the subtill loupes among;
That in the ende he breathlesse did remaine,
And, all his yongthly 1 forces idly spent,

1

Him to the mercie of th' avenger lent.

Which when the greisly tyrant did espie,
Like a grimme lyon rushing with fierce might
Out of his den, he seized greedelie
On the resistles pray; and, with fell spight,
Under the left wing strooke his weapon slie
Into his heart, that his deepe-groning spright
In bloodie streames forth fled into the aire,
His bodie left the spectacle of care.

1 Yongthly, youthful.

430

435

440

END OF VOL. IV.