And (what more loud than these appeared to ring)
Tumult, and shriek, and groan, and loud lament,
Composed a direr whole than what offends
The neighbouring tribes where deafening Nile descends.

LVII
The arrows' double shower the ample sky
With wide-extended shade is seen to shrowd;
Breath, smoke of sweat and dust ascend on high,
And seem to stamp in air a murky cloud.
By turns each host gives way, and you might spy,
Now chasing, now in flight, the self-same crowd;
And here some wight, beside his foeman slain,
Or little distant, prostrate on the plain.

LVIII
When, harassed with fatigue, a wearied crew
Withdraw, fresh files their fellows reinforce:
Men, here and there, the wasted ranks renew;
Here march supplies of foot, and there of horse:
Her mantle green for robe of crimson hue
Earth shifts, ensanguined where the warriors course:
And there were azure flowers and yellow sprung,
Now slaughtered men lie stretched their steeds among.

LIX
Zerbino was more wonders seen to do
Than ever stripling of his age, he strowed
The ground with heaps of dead, and overthrew
The paynim numbers which about him flowed.
The valiant Ariodantes to his new-
Entrusted squadron mighty prowess showed;
Filling with dread and wonder, near and far,
The squadrons of Castile and of Navarre.

LX
Chelindo and Mosco (bastards were the twain
Of Calabrun, late king of Arragon),
And one esteemed among the valiant train,
Calamidor, of Barcellona's town,
Leaving their standards, in the hope to gain,
By young Zerbino's death, a glorious force,
And wounded in his flanks the prince's horse.

LXI
Pierced by three lances lay the courser strong,
But bold Zerbino quickly rose anew;
And, eager to avenge his charger's wrong,
The assailants, where he sees them, will pursue.
Zerbino at Mosco first, that overhung
Him, in the hope to make him prisoner, flew,
And pierced him in the flank; who from his sell,
Pallid and cold, upon the champaign fell.

LXII
When him so killed, as 'twere by stealthy blow,
Chelindo viewed, to avenge his brother slain,
He charged, intent the prince to overthrow;
But he seized fast his courser by the rein,
And, thence to rise not, laid the charger low,
Destined no more to feed on hay or grain;
For at one stroke, so matchless was his force,
Zerbino cleft the rider and his horse.

LXIII
When that fell blo