At whom, with gaping mouth full greedily
To seize and to devour her tender corse,
When he did run, he stopp'd ere he drew nigh,
And loosing all his rage in quick remorse,
As with the sight amazed, forgot his furious force.

Then coming near, he kiss'd her weary feet,
And lick'd her lily hand with fawning tongue,
As he her wronged innocence did meet:
Oh! how can beauty master the most strong,
And simple truth subdue intent of wrong!
His proud submission, and his yielded pride,
Though dreading death, when she had marked long,
She felt compassion in her heart to slide,
And drizzling tears to gush that might not be denied.

And with her tears she pour'd a sad complaint,
That softly echoed from the neighbouring wood;
While sad to see her sorrowful constraint,
The kingly beast upon her gazing stood:
With pity calm'd he lost all angry mood.
At length, in close breast shutting up her pain,
Arose the virgin born of heavenly brood,
And on her snowy palfrey rode again
To seek and find her knight, if him she might attain.

The lion would not leave her desolate,
But with her went along, as a strong guard
Of her chaste person, and a faithful mate
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard: