XLII.
The Saracenic squadrons had begun
To bend, and all the army of the Moor
Had turned, disordered, broken, and undone,
Never to be arrayed or rallied more,
But that Grandonio stood, and Falsiron,
Tried oftentimes in greater ill before,
With Serpentine and Balugantes proud,
And the renowned Ferrau, who cried aloud:
XLIII.
“O valiant men,” he—“O companions,” cries,
“O brethren, stand, and yet your place maintain;
“Like cobweb-threads our cruel enemies
“Will find their works, if we our part sustain.
“What this day Fortune offers to our eyes,
“If now we conquer, see the praise, the gain!—
“If conquered, see the utter loss and shame
“Which will for ever wait upon your name!”
XLIV.
He in this time a mighty lance had spanned,
And spurred at once against Sir Berlinghier,
Who Argaliffa guided with his hand,
And broke his helmet’s frontal with the spear,
Cast him on earth, and with the cruel brand
Unhorsed perhaps eight other warriors near.
His mighty strokes discharging, at each blow,
He ever laid at least one horseman low.
