ght.

XXVII
The foolish rabble anxiously attends
Those goodly champions' contest for the prize,
A crowd which neither sees nor comprehends
Other than that which is before its eyes.
But they who know what boots and what offends,
-- Marsilius and Sobrino, and the wise --
Censure the fight, and monarch that affords
A field of combat to those martial lords.

XXVIII
Nor what a heavy loss he would sustain
(Cease they to royal Agramant to read)
Were Mandricardo or Rogero slain;
A thing by cruel Destiny decreed.
Since they, to combat against Charlemagne,
Of one of these alone have greater need
Than of ten thousand more, amid which crew
They scarce would find one champion good and true.

XXIX
Agramant recognized this truth; but thought
That ill his royal word could be repealed;
Yet Mandricardo and the Child besought
That they the right, conferred by him, would yield:
More; that the question was a thing of nought,
Nor worthy to be tried in martial field;
And prayed them -- would they not obey his hest
At least somewhile, to let their quarrel rest.

XXX
Five or six months would they the strife delay,
Or more or less, till Charles defeated were,
And stript of mantle, crown, and royal sway.
But each, though he would willingly forbear,
And much desired his sovereign to obey,
Stood out against the Moorish monarch's prayer:
Since either deemed he would be foully shent
Who to this treaty first should yield consent.

XXXI
But more than king, than all, who sought in vain
To soften Agrican's infuriate son,
The beauteous daughter of King Stordilane
Lamented, besought him, woe-begone,
Besought him he would do what all would fain
Behold by the relenting warrior done;
-- Lamenting her, as through the cavalier,
For ever kept in agony and fear.

XXXII
"Alas! and what (exclaims she) can I find
Which may avail to minister repose,
If aye, by this or that desire inclined,
You don your harness to affront new foes?
What boots it to restore my harassed mind
That I behold one fearful quarrel's close,
Against one champion moved for love of me,
If one as fierce already kindled be?

XXXIII
"Woe worth me! I was proud, with little right,
So good a king, so stout a cavalier
For he should in the fierce and dangerous fight
Peril his life, who now, I see to clear,
Upon a ground of strife so passing light,
With