XLV.
The good Orlando could no more forbear,
And cried, “Foul miscreant, liar, matched with me,
“Say, caitiff, in what country, when and where
“Boast you to have obtained such victory?
“That paladin am I, o’er whom you dare
“To vaunt, and whom you distant deemed: now see
“If you can take my helm, or I have might
“To take your other arms in your despite.
XLVI.
“Nor I o’er you the smallest vantage wou’d.”
He ended, and his temples disarrayed,
And to a beech hung up the helmet good,
And nigh as quickly bared his trenchant blade.
Ferràu stands close, and in such attitude,
(His courage not for what had chanced dismayed)
Covered with lifted shield and naked sword,
As might best shelter to his head afford.
XLVII.
’Twas thus those warriors two, with faulchions bare,
Turning their ready steeds, began to wheel;
And where the armour thinnest was, and where
The meeting plates were joined, probed steel with steel;
Nor was there in the world another pair
More fitted to be matched in fierce appeal:
Equal their daring, equal was their might,
And safe alike from wound was either knight.
