In quittance, Sansonet, his sword to bear, Gave a rich girdle to Astolpho bold, And spurs for either heel, a costly pair, With bucklers and with rowels made of gold;
Which ('twas believed) the warrior's relicts were, Who freed the damsel from that dragon old;
Spoils, which Sir Sansonet, with many more, From Joppa, when he took the city, bore XCIX
Cleansed of their errors in a monastery, From whence the odour of good works upwent, They of Christ's passion every mystery Contemplating, through all the churches went;
Which now, to our eternal infamy, Foul Moor usurp; what time on strife intent, All Europe rings with arms and martial deeds, And war is everywhere but where it needs.
