ow here Marphisa hurried, and now there,
But could not singly such an ill repair.

CXI
As peasant, when a river saps its mounds,
And seeking vent the oozing waters drop,
Hastening to shut the stream within its bounds,
And save his pastures and expected crop,
Dams right and left; yet him the stream confounds:
For, if he here the sinking ruin prop,
There he beholds the rotten dyke give out,
And from thick seams the restless water spout,

CXII
So, while the Tartar and Rogero rage,
And Rodomont, in hurly-burly fray,
For each of these would fiercest battle wage,
And would outgo his fears in that assay,
Marphisa seeks their fury to assuage,
And strives, and time and trouble throws away;
For as she makes one knight from strife retire,
She sees the others re-engage with ire.

CXIII
Marphisa, to appease the warriors bent,
Exclaimed, "Sirs, listen to my better lore;
A good remembrance 'tis, all argument
To leave until we Agramant restore.
If each is on his own design intent,
With Mandricardo will I strive once more;
And fain would see, according to his word,
If he can conquer me with spear and sword.

CXIV
"But if, to aid our sovereign, duty call,
Him let us aid, nor civil discord breed."
-- "To ground, through me, such project shall not fall,"
Rogero said, "so he restore my steed.
Let him resign that horse, or -- once for all.
I say again -- to his defence take heed.
I either here my parting breath will yield,
Or on my courser will return afield."

CXV
-- "Twere not so easy to obtain this quest
As 'twere that other," Rodomont replied;
And thus pursued: "I unto thee protest,
If any evil shall our king betide,
Thine is the fault not mine; for I am prest
To do whate'er is fitting, on my side."
Small heed to that protest Rogero paid,
And stung by fury, griped his trenchant blade.

CXVI
On Argier's king he sprang, like savage boar,
Encountering him with shoulder and with shield;
And him disordered and distrest so sore,
That with one stirrup's loss, the monarch reeled.
-- "Rogero," Mandricardo cried, "give o'er,
Or else with me divide the battle-field";
And struck, this said, with worse than felon spite,
Upon the morion of that youthful knight.

CXVII
Even to his courser's neck Rogero bends;
Nor, when he would, himself can rear;
Because the sword of Ulien's son descends
As well upon the