lain; and so, weeping and lamenting,
yet blessing every flower and bit of grass that he had touched, fell
asleep out of fatigue and sorrow.

As Angelica thus lay, the good or bad fortune of Orlando conducted him to
the same place. The attitude in which she was sleeping was so lovely
that it is not even to be conceived, much less expressed. The very grass
seemed to flower on all sides of her for joy; and the stream, as it
murmured along, to go talking of love.[8] Orlando stood gazing like a man
who had been transported to another sphere. "Am I on earth," thought he,
"or am I in paradise? Surely it is I myself that am sleeping, and this is
my dream."

But his dream was proved to be none, in a manner which he little desired.
Ferragus, who had slain Argalia, came up raging with jealousy, and a
combat ensued which awoke the sleeper. Terrified at what she beheld, she
rushed to her palfrey; and while the fighters were occupied with one
another, fled away through the forest.

Fast fled the beauty in the direction taken by Rinaldo; nor did she
cease travelling, by one conveyance or another, till she reached her own
country, whither she had sent Malagigi. Him she freed from his prison,
on condition that he would employ his art for the purpose of bringing
Rinaldo to a palace of hers, which she possessed in an island; and
accordingly Rinaldo was inveigled by a spirit into an enchanted barque,
which he found on a sea-shore, and which conveyed him, without any
visible pilot, into Joyous Palace (for so the island was called).

The whole island was a garden, fifteen miles in extent. It was full of
trees and lawns; and on the western side, close to the sea, was the
palace, built of a marble so clear and polished, that it reflected the
landscape round about. Rinaldo, not knowing what to think of his strange
conveyance, lost no time in leaping to shore; upon which a lady made her
appearance, who invited him within. The house was a most beautiful house,
full of rooms adorned with azure and gold, and with noble paintings;
and within as well as without it were the loveliest flowers, the purest
fountains, and a fragrance fit to turn sorrow to joy. The lady led the
knight into an apartment painted with stories, and opening to the garden
through pillars of crystal with golden capitals. Here he found a bevy of
ladies, three of whom were singing in concert, while another played on
some foreign instrument of exquisite accord, and the rest were