The lioness was stout and stern,
Again to Bevis she gan erne
And by the right leg she him grip,
As the wolf doth the sheep,
That nigh she braid out his sparlire;
Then was Bevis in great ire,
And in that ilche self venue
Through God's grace and his virtue
The lioness so hard he smote
With Morgelai, that bitter bot
Even upon the regge an high,
That Morgelai in the earth fly.

Lines 2483-2494