- <poem>
Such skill, matched with such courage as he had, Did prick him forth with proud desire of praise; To seek abroad, of danger nought y'drad, His mistress' name and his own fame to raise. What need, peril to be sought abroad? Since round about us, it doth make abode.
It fortuned as he, that perilous game In foreign soil pursued, far away; Into a forest wide and waste, he came, Where store he heard to be of savage prey. So wide a forest and so waste as this, Nor famous Ardenne, nor foul Arlo is.
There his well-woven toils and subtle trains He laid, the brutish nation to enwrap: So well he wrought with practice and with pains, That he of them, great troops did soon entrap. Full happy man! misweening much, was he; So rich a spoil within his power to see.
Eftsoons, all heedless of his dearest hale, Full greedily into the herd he thrust To slaughter them and work their final bale, Lest that his toil should of their troops be burst. Wide wounds emongst them, many one he made; Now with his sharp boar spear, now with his blade.
- <poem>
