The Saracen sore daunted with the buffet
Snatcheth his sword, and fiercely to him flies;
Who well it wards, and quitteth cuff with cuff:
Each others' equal puissaunce envies,
And through their iron sides with cruel spies
Does seek to pierce: repining courage yields
No foot to foe. The flashing fire flies
As from a forge out of their burning shields,
And streams of purple blood new dyes the verdant fields.

Book 1, Canto 2