I say King Sacripant of Circassy,
And Aquilant, and Gryphon, famous peer;
With hundreds -- yea and more -- from far and nigh
Made prisoners at that fearful pass whilere,
Baptized or Infidel; and all by me
From prison on the selfsame day set free.

XLI
"And even yet they marvel evermore
At the great feat which I performed that day;
Greater than if the squadrons of the Moor
And Frank united I had held at bay;
And shall Rogero, new to martial lore,
Me, onto to one, with scathe or scorn appay?
And me shall now this young Rogero scare,
When Hector's sword and Hector's arms I wear?

XLII
"Ah! as I might have won you from my foe,
Why did I not for you in arms contend?
I so had them my valour shown, I know,
You would have well foreseen Rogero's end.
For heaven's sake dry your tears, nor by such woe
-- An evil omen for my arms -- offend;
And learn, 'tis Honour pricks me to the field,
And not an argent bird and blazoned shield."

XLIII
So said he; and with reasons passing good
To him that dame replied, with saddest face;
Nor only would have changed his sullen mood,
But would have moved a pillar from its place.
She would the champion quickly have subdued,
Though she was gowned, he locked in iron case;
And make him satisfy the Moorish lord,
If Agramant spake further of accord;

XLIV
And had; but that Aurora -- on his way
Ushering aye the sun -- no sooner stirred,
Than young Rogero, anxious to display
That rightfully he bore Jove's beauteous bird,
To cut the quarrel short, and lest delay
Be further interposed, in act or word,
Where round the palisade the people close,
Appears in armour and his bugle blows.

XLV
When that loud sound is by the Tartar heard,
Which the proud warrior to the strife defies,
No more of treaty will he hear a word:
From bed upspringing, "Arms," the monarch cries,
And shows a visage with such fury stirred,
Doralice dares no longer peace advise,
Nor speak of treaty or of truce anew;
And now parforce the battle must ensue.

XLVI
The Tartar arms himself in haste; with pain
The wonted service of his squires he tarries:
This done, he springs upon the steed amain,
Erewhile the champion's who defended Paris;
And him with speed towards the listed plain,
Fixt for that fierce assay, the courser carries.
Even then the king and barons thither made,
So that the strife was litt