CXIV.
With crimson Rodomont his banner stains,
And in the vermeil field a lion shows;
Who, bitted by a maid, to curb and reins
His savage mouth disdains not to unclose.
Himself in the submissive lion feigns
The haughty Rodomont, and would suppose
In her who curbs him with the bit and string,
Doralice, daughter to Grenada’s king;
CXV.
Whom Mandricardo took, as I before
Related, and from whom, and in what wise.
Even she it was, whom Sarza’s monarch more
Loved than his realm,—beyond his very eyes:
And valour showed for her and courteous lore,
Not knowing yet she was another’s prize.
If he had,—then,—then first,—the story known,
Even what he did that day, he would have done.
CXVI.
At once the foes a thousand ladders rear,
Against the wall by the assailants shored,
Two manned each round; the second, in the rear,
Urged on the first; the third the second gored.
One mounts the wall through valour, one through fear,
And all attempt perforce the dangerous ford;
For cruel Rodomont, of Argier, slays
Or smites the wretched laggard who delays.
