She marvels at the champion's horrid blows;

  She marvels how in vain they never fell.

  The iron, smit by Balisarda shows

  Like paper, not like stubborn plate and shell.

  To pieces helm and solid corslet goes,

  And men are severed, even to the sell;

  Whom into equal parts those strokes divide,

  Half dropt on this, and half on the other side.