like Orlando and Duke Aymon's son,
Had faithful Brandimart thrown up the game,
Charles had from Paris into exile gone,
If he had scaped alive so fierce a flame.
Brandimart does his best, and when 'tis done,
Yields to the storm: Thus Fortune, fickle dame,
Now smiles upon the paynim monarch, who
Besieges royal Charlemagne anew.

XXXIV
From earth beneath the widow's outcry swells,
Mingled with elder's and with orphan's prayer,
Into the pure serene, where Michael dwells,
Rising above this dim and troubled air;
And to the blest archangel loudly tells,
How the devouring wolf and raven tear
His faithful English, French, and German train,
Whose slaughtered bodies overspread the plain.

XXXV
Red blushed the blessed angel, who believed
He ill obedience to his lord had paid;
And, in his anger, deemed himself deceived
By the perfidious Discord and betrayed:
He his Creator's order had received
To stir the Moors to strife, nor had obeyed;
Had rather in their eyes who marked the event,
Appeared throughout to thwart his high intent.

XXXVI
As servant faithful to his lord, and more
In love than memory strong, who finds that he
Has that forgotten which at his heart-core,
As precious as his life and soul should be,
Hastes to repair his error, nor before
He mend that fault, again his lord will see,
So not to God St. Michael will ascend
Until he has achieved his holy end.

XXXVII
Again he to that monastery flew,
Where whilom he had Discord seen; and there
Seated in chapter sees her, while anew
Their yearly officers elected are,
She taking huge delight those friers to view,
That at each other hurled their books of prayer.
His hand within her locks the archangel twists,
And deals her endless scathe with feet and fists.

XXXVIII
On her he next a cross's handle broke;
Wherewith her back, and arms, and head he plies:
His mercy with loud voice the wretch bespoke,
And hugged that angel's knees with suppliant cries.
Michael suspends not the avenging stroke
Till hunted to the Moorish camp she flies,
Then thus: "Believe worse vengeance yet in store,
If I beyond these lines behold thee more."

XXXIX
Albeit in back and arms all over shent
Was Discord by that angel, in her fear
Of suffering yet again such chastisement,
Such horrid fury and such blows severe,
She speedily to take her bellows went,
And, adding