LXIII
Came that stalwart lord, his steed as he spurr’d, Saw him bide at the bay, with the bowmen about him; He leapt him down lightly and, leaving his courser, Drew a bright brand; then bigly he strode And hied fast through the ford where the fell beast waited; Who, ware of the wight with the weapon in hand, His hair bristled high, and so angerly snorted, Many fear’d for that free lest the worse him befall. Then set forth the swine and made swift at his foe, That the man and the boar were both upon heaps In the wildest of the water; but woe’s master boar! For e’en as they meet, the man well marks him And right in his slot the sharp blade he sets And drives úp to the hilt; his heart is acloven, With a snarl and a moan he moves o’er the water anon. A hundred hounds him caught, They bit him every one, Hunters to bent him brought And dogs to kill set on.