LXIII.
What afterwards was done at close of day
Between the damsel and the Tartar lord,
I will not take upon myself to say;
So leave to each, at pleasure, to award.
But as they rose the following morn more gay,
It would appear they were of fair accord:
And on the swain who them such honour showed,
Her thanks at parting Doralice bestowed.
LXIV.
Thence from one place to the other wandering, they
Find themselves by a river, as they go,
Which to the sea in silence winds its way,
And ill could be pronounced to stand or flow.
So clear and limpid, that the cheerful day,
With nought to intercept it, pierced below.
Upon its bank, beneath a cooling shade,
They found two warriors and a damsel laid.
LXV.
Now lofty Fancy, which one course to run
Permits not, calls me hence in sudden wise;
And thither I return, where paynims stun
Fair France with hostile din and angry cries,
About the tent, wherein Troyano’s son
The holy empire in his wrath defies,
And boastful Rodomont, with vengeful doom,
Gives Paris to the flames, and levels Rome.
