After a thousand blows, Astolpho sped One stroke, above the shoulders and below The chin, which lopt away both helm and head:
Nor lights the duke less swiftly than his foe.
Then grasps the hair defiled with gore and red, Springs in a moment on his horse, and lo!
Up-stream with it along Nile's margin hies, So that the thief cannot retake the prize.