LXXXI.
The remnant of the winter, he with shield
And spear achieved things worthy to be shown,
I ween; but these were then so well concealed,
It is no fault of mine they are not blown;
For good Orlando was in fighting field,
Prompter to do, than make his prowess known.
Nor e’er was bruited action of the knight,
Save when some faithful witness was in sight.
LXXXII.
That winter’s remnant he so passed that feat,
Of his was known not to the public ear;
But when within that animal discreet
Which Phryxus[16] bore, the sun illumed the sphere,
And Zephyrus returning glad and sweet,
Brought back with him again the blooming year,
The wondrous deeds Orlando did in stower,
Appeared with the new grass and dainty flower.
LXXXIII.
From plain to hill, from champaign-flat to shore,
Oppressed with grief and pain the country fares,
When a long cry, entering a forest hoar,
—A loud lamenting smites upon his ears.
He grasps his brand and spurs his courser sore,
And swiftly pricks towards the sound he hears.
But I shall at another season say
What chanced, and may be heard in future lay.
