Canto 8

OH strange enchantments vsed now a dayes,
Oh charmers straunge among vs dayly found,
That find so many charms and subtle wayes,
Wherewith they hold fond louers hearts fast bound,
Not with coniured spirits that they raise,
Nor knowledge of the stars and skill profound,
But blinding mens conceits, and them fast tying,
With simulation, fraud, deceit and lying.

But he that had the rule and ring of reason,
Should soone their frauds, their crafts and guiles discouer,
And finde a hoord of foule and lothsome treason,
To lurke within the shew of such a louer:
Well may they seeme most louely for a treason,
When all their wrinkles they with painting couer,
But vnto men of wit and reason learned,
Their subtleties shall quickly be discerned.

Rogero (as I said) in secret sort,
With Ralucan out of the castle went,
And made the watch and guard vnpleasant sport,
That most of them his comming might repent:
Some had their armes, and some their heads cut short,
All put to flight, the gates in peeces rent.
And then vnto the wood he entred, when
He met by chance one of Alcynas men.

This man did beare a faulcon on his fist,
With which he went on hauking day by day,
To flie in field, or riuer as he list,
The countrie full of game still yeelded pray,
He had a spaniell could not well be mist,
And eke a hauking nagge not verie gay,
And meeting good Rogero halfe disguised,
That he was fled away he straight surmised.

The seruant rideth on, and at their meeting,
He askt Rogero why he rode so fast,
Rogero gaue him verie slender greeting,
As though on such a squire he little past:
Well (quoth the faulkner) though thou now art fleeting,
I truster long to shew thee such a cast,
That with my dogge, my faulcon and my horse,
I do not doubt to fetch thee backe by force.

And first he lets the faulcon take her flight,
But Rabican as fast as she did flie,
Then from his horse the faulkner doth alight,
His horse flue like an arrow by and by.
Then went the dogge, who was of course so light,
As is the wind that bloweth in the skie:
And last of all himselfe ran with such shift,
It seem'd the lightnings flame was not so swift.

Rogero thinketh it a foule disgrace,
That any man should thinke he fled for feare,
And more because he now was had in chase:
Wherefore he doth a while the flight for beare,
And manfully to them he turnes his face,
And seeing no man but the faulkner there.
And that no weapon in his hand he saw,
He much disdaind on him his sword to draw.

But straight the dog doth bite his horses heeles,
The hauke his head amazed with her wings.
When Rabycan such strange foes forces feeles,
He riseth vp before, behinde he flings:
Rogero thought the world had run on wheeles,
And Balisarda out at once he brings,
But they, it seemd, so well were seene in fence,
That all his blowes to them brought no offence.

Both loth to stay, resolued not to yeeld,
He takes his target from his saddle bow,
And with the dazling light of that same sheeld,
Whose force Melyssa lately made him know,
He made them fall as if their eies were seeld,
So that no farther let from them did grow,
But hauing vanquisht them this wise with ease,
He now may ride at leasure where he please.

These foes once foild, their forces ouercome,
Alcyna straight had notice of his flight,
For of the watchmen one to her was come,
That while these things were done did stand in sight.
This made her stand like one halfe dead or dumme,
And after put her into such a fright,
That forthwith for auoiding further harme,
Through all the towne she made them crie alarme.

And calling oft her selfe a foolish beast,
Because Rogero so from her was slipt,
Somtime she beates her head, her face and breast,
Sometime in rage her garments all the ript:
She calleth all her men from most to least,
A part of whom vnto the sea she shipt,
And of the rest she makes a mightie band,
To fetch Rogero backe againe by land.

All were so busie to this seruice bent,
That none remaind the pallace faire to gard,
Which greatly helpt Melyssas good intent,
Which chiefly was as you before haue hard,
To set at large poore prisners so long pent,
Which now to do (she absent) was not hard,
Dissoluing all her circles and her knots,
And stroying all her figures and her lots.

And thus in fields, in houses, and in woods,
She set at large as many as she found,
That had bene turnd, to trees, to stones and floods,
And in that state by magicke art fast bound:
Likewise to them she rendred all their goods,
Who when they saw themselues so cleare vnbound,
Departing thence with all the hast they might,
To Logestilia they arriu[…]d that night.

And first of all and chiefe of all the rest,
The English Duke came to himselfe againe,
Because Rogero lou'd and wisht him best,
And lends the ring that makes inchantments vaine,
But good Melyssa could by no meanes rest,
Vntil she could his armour eke regaine,
And that same famous worthie guilded launce,
That had to him such honor done in Fraunce.

With which Argalia got no little fame,
Who vsed oft the same in fight to beare.
Now when Melyssa to the castle came,
She found his other armour with the speare,
And this atcheeu'd, the sage and frendly dame,
Mounts on the Griffith horse without all feare,
And Duke Astolfo mounting on his crupper,
To Logestillas came that night to supper.

Now was Rogero with no small a do,
Tiring himselfe amid those craggie wayes,
And striuing all that he with paine may do,
To cut of all those lothsome long delayes,
That hindred him for sooner comming to
That Ladie faire whose vertues merit praise,
Till neare the Southerne sea with mickle paine,
He came vnto a sandy desert plaine.

Here was he plagu'd with thirst and parching heat,
And with the sunne reflecting on the sand,
Which from the South vpon the banke did beat,
Enflaming still the aire on either hand,
But leauing now Rogero in this sweat,
That still I may not in one matter stand.
To Scotland now I will returne againe,
And of Renaldo talke a word or twaine.

Great was his entertainment and his cheare,
Made by the king and people of the land,
Which feasts once done, the worthie valiant peare,
As was his charge, doth let them vnderstand,
How Charles the great, whose state doth touch them neare
In no small need of their good aid did stand,
And how for this he sent him to their nation,
And to this tale he ads an exhortation.

Then was it answerd him without delay,
That for king Charles and for the Empires sake,
They all were readie to do all they may,
And would for this behoofe short order take,
And oftred him to shew (if he would stay)
What store of horse and footmen he could make:
Namely the king himselfe would be right glad,
To go in person, but his age forbad.

Nor yet should age with him so much haue done,
As make him from the battell to abide,
Saue that he had a wise and valiant sonne,
Well able such a band of men to guide,
Whose value had alreadie praises wonne,
And of his youth was now in floure and pride.
This noble toward impe he doth intend,
As captaine of his armed men to send.

Wherefore about his realme forthwith he sent,
To get of horses and of men good store,
With ships, and things to war most pertinent,
As needfull meate, and mony needfull more,
The while Renaldo into England went,
The king to Barwicke companie him bore,
And men report that when they should depart,
The king was seene to weepe for tender hart.

Renaldo went with faire and prosprous wind,
And past along vpon the English coast,
Vntill he hapt the noble Tems to find,
Of which all London iustly make their boast:
Here he tooke land as first he had assign'd,
And in twelue houres iourney riding post,
Vnto the Prince of Wales he was conducted,
Whom of these matters fully he instructed.

The Prince that was Vicegerent to the King,
(That Oton hight) who soiournd now in France,
From whom Renaldo did commission bring,
To take vp horse, and men, and ordinance.
When he had once true knowledge of that thing,
Which of all other he would most aduance:
He marshald men of armes without delay,
And points them meet at Callice by a day.

But here I must a while from hence digresse,
Lest to one tale my pen should still be bound,
As good musitians do their skill expresse,
By playing on the strings of diuers sound:
While Renald here is cheard with great excesse,
(As euer in the English land is found)
I meane to tell how that faire Ladie sped,
That twise before from this Renaldo fled.

I told you how Angelica the bright,
Fled from Renaldo in a thicke darke wood,
How on a hermit there she hapt to light,
And how her sight reuiu'd his aged blood:
But she that tooke in him but small delight,
Whose hoary haires could do her little good,
With this good hermit made but little stay,
But turnd her horses rains and went away.

The hermit seeing he contemned was,
(Whom age long since, and loue did newly blind)
Doth spurre a thousand times his silly asse,
Who still remained more and more behind,
And sith he saw he could not bring to passe,
To stop her course (afflicted much in mind)
In vaine he doth his poore asse beate and curse,
His trot was very bad, his gallop worse.

And being out of hope of comming nire,
As hauing almost lost her horses tracke,
He studies now to compasse his desire,
With some rare strategeme to bring her back:
Vnto that art forthwith he doth retire,
(That damned art that is surnamed blacke)
And by his bookes of magicke he doth make
A little sprite the Ladie ouertake.

And as the hound that men the Tumbler name,
When he a hare or conie doth espie,
Doth seeme another way his course to frame,
As though he meant not to approch more nie,
But yet he meeteth at the last his game,
And shaketh it vntill he make it die;
So doth the hermit trauerse all about,
At eu'ry turne to find the damsell out.

What he intends to do, full well I wot,
And meane ere long the same to you to show,
The damsell traueld still that knew it not,
The spright to do his office was not slow,
For straight within the horse himselfe he got,
As she on sands of Gascoigne seas did go,
The spright that fully had postest the horse,
Did driue her to the sea with all his force.

Which when the faire and fearfull damsell saw,
Although she tride full oft with rod and raine,
Her palfrey from his dangerous course to draw,
Yet seeing plainly she did striue in vaine,
With colour chang'd for anguish and for aw,
And casting oft her looke to land againe,
At last the sitteth still, nor further striueth.
For needs they must go whom the diuell driueth.

In vaine it was to strike the horse her bare,
It was not done by that poore palfreys falt,
Wherefore she tucks her garments, taking care
Lest they should be bedewd with waters salt,
Vpon her haire, which then all loose she ware,
The aire doth make an amorous assalt,
The greater winds were still, I thinke of deutie,
That they acknowledge to so rare a beutie.

The waters more, the land still lesse she sees,
At last she saw but one small peece of land,
And that small peece in small time she doth leese;
Now sees she neither shore nor any sand.
Then cold despaire all liuely hope did freese,
When as her horse did turne to the right hand,
And at the twilight, or not long before,
Did bring her to a solitary shore.

Here she remaining helplesse and alone,
Among the fruitlesse trees and senslesse rocks,
Standing her selfe all like the marble stone,
Saue that sometime she tare her golden locks,
At last her eyes to teares, her tongue to mone,
She doth resolue, her faire soft breast she knocks,
And blames the God of heau'n and powre diuine,
That did the fates vnto her fall incline.

O fortune, fortune, (thus the damsell cride)
Fill now thy rage and execute thine ire,
And take this life that takest all beside,
And let my death accomplish thy desire:
I haue and dayly do thy force abide,
Feare still my mind, trauell my limbs doth tire,
And makes me think in this great storme and strife,
That death were sweet to shorten such a life.

Can all thy malice do me further spite?
Can any state be worse or more vnstedy?
That am from princely scepter banisht quite,
A helplesse hap and hurt past all remedy,
And worse then this, mine honor shining bright
Is stained sore, and eu'n defast alredy,
For though in act no ill I euer wrought,
Yet wandring thus wil make men think me nought.

What can a woman hold of any price,
If once she leese her honor and good name?
Alas I hate this beautie and despise,
And with it neuer had bene of such fame:
Ne do I for this gift now thanke the skies,
By which my spoile and vtter ruine came,
Which cauld my brother Argal shed his blood,
Ne could his armes enchanted do him good.

For this the king of Tartar Agricane,
Sought of my father Galafron the spoile,
Who whilome was in India cald great Cane,
And after dide with sorrow of the foile.
For this I d[…]yly doubting to be tane,
From place to place do passe with endlesse toile,
And now to loose alas what hast thou left me,
Since same, and goods, and friends are all bereft me?

If drowning in the sea were not a death
Seuere enough to quench thy raging spite,
Then send some beast out of this desert heath,
To teare my limbs and to deuoure me quite:
I shall thee thanke for stopping of my breath,
If to torment me thou haue no delight.
These wofull words vtterd the Ladie bright,
When straight the hermit came within her fight.

Who all the while had in a corner stood,
And heard her make this piteous plaint and mone,
Proceeding from her sad and mourning mood,
Enough to moue a heart as hard as stone:
It did the senex fornicator good,
To thinke that he was there with her alone,
Yet […]o deuoutly commeth this old carrion,
As though it had bene Paul or Saint Hillarion.

When as the damsell saw a man appeare,
In such a desert solitary place,
She straight began to be of better cheare,
Though feare and dread appeare still in her face:
And with a voice so loud as he might heare,
She praid him pitie this her wofull case,
Recounting all her dangers ouerblowne,
To him to whom they were alreadie knowne.

No sooner had the hermit heard her out,
But straight to comfort her he doth begin,
And shewes by many reasons and deuout,
How all these plagues were sent her for her sin:
The while he puts his sawcie hands about,
Sometime her breasts, sometime her neck and chin,
And more and more still gathering heart of grace,
He offers boldly her for to embrace.

But she that much disdaind this homely fashion,
Doth staine her cheekes with red for very shame,
Thrust back his carren corpes without compassion,
Reuiling him with many a spitefull name,
Who testie with old age and with new passion,
That did him now with wrath and loue inflame,
Drawes out a bottle of a strange confection,
That fleepe procureth by a strong infection.

With this he sprinkleth both the damsels eies,
(Those eyes whence Cupid oft his arrowes shot)
Straight sound asleepe the goodly damsell lies,
Subiected to the will of such a sot:
Ne yet for ought he did or could deuise,
He could procure his curtall stir a iot,
Yet oft he kist her lips, her cheekes, her brest,
And felt and saw the beauties of the rest.

The dullerd iade still hangeth downe his head,
Sturring or spurring could not make him praunce,
The sundrier wayes he said, the worse he sped,
His youthful dayes were done, he could not daunce,
His strength was gone, his courage all was dead,
His weapon looked like a broken launce:
And while himselfe in vaine he thus doth cumber,
He falleth downe by her into a slumber.

But now another euill chance befell,
(For one ill turne alone is seldome done)
The which to th'end I may the better tell,
Know this, about the setting of the sunne,
There is an Ile, Ebuda as men tell,
Whose habitants are welnigh all vndone,
By meanes that mightie Proteus thither sent
An Orke that doth the people teare and rent.

Within this Ile, as auncient stories tell,
(I not affirme how false they are or true)
Sometime a king of mightie powre did dwell,
That had a daughter passing faire of hue,
The which faire Ladie Proteus likt so well,
When her on sands in walking he did vew,
That though he dwelt in waters salt and cold,
Yet fresh hot loue on him had taken hold.

Which heate when all the sea could not asswage,
He thought her milkwarm flesh could only quench,
And (for he saw she was of lawfull age)
With her consent he forst the princely wench:
Which sinne did set her father in such rage,
That straight condemning her in open bench:
Her of her life he publikely bereaued,
Nor spar'd the infant in h[…]r wombe conceaued.

This cruell act her louer so inflamed,
On King and Iland he doth wreake his spite,
He sends that monster that before I named,
With other beasts to stroy the Iland quite:
These monsters hurt their men, beat, kild and lamed,
In fine put all the people in such fright,
That to escape the beast deuoid of pitie,
They left their fields, and fled vnto their citie.

And though men armd the gates and wals defend,
Yet they within scant thought themselues secure,
And sith their harmes haue neither ease nor end,
And tir'd these tedious trauels to endure,
Vnto Ap[…]llos oracle they send,
To know how they their safetie might procure,
Who after humble sute and sacrifice,
Answerd them of Ebuda in this wise.

Blood guiltlesse spilt did breed great Proteus ire,
Inflamd with loue, and fed with beautie rare,
Blood guiltlesse must be spilt to quench this fire,
Till one be found may with the first compare:
This you must do and if you peace desire,
To take of damsels those that fairest are,
And offer one a day vpon the shore,
Till he find one like vnto that before.

This wofull answer breeding much despaire,
And more dislike within their carefull harts,
To thinke that eu'ry day a damsell faire,
Must for a prey be giu'n without desarts:
This is the cause that maketh them repaire,
(To find sufficient store) to sundry parts,
And get them virgins faire and vndefloured,
Of this most vgly Orke to be deuoured.

Now if this be of Proteus true or not,
I meane not in defence of it to stand,
But this is certaine so, full well I wot,
Men vse this cruell custome in that land,
And day by day a maid is drawne by lot,
And left for prey vpon the rocke or sand,
Vnto the monster that doth them deuoure,
Eu'n in their prime of youth and tender floure.

O wretched wights, whom subtle snares haue brought
To this vnfortunate and fatall Ile,
Where damsels faire and handsome out are sought,
To serue for food vnto a monster vile:
Their pyrats bring them home, their vessels fraught
With such they take by force, or trap with wile,
With which they fill their prisons and their towres,
To haue them ready at appointed howres.

Thus sending out their vessels day by day,
It chanc'd that one of them with tempest tost,
Hapt to arriue whereas the hermit lay
With that faire Lady hard vpon the cost:
Oh cruell chance, oh precious peerlesse pray,
Among the pirats either to be lost,
Or to be caried to the fatall Ile,
To be deuoured of a monster vile.

That beautie rare that Sacrapant ay deemed
More deare then liuing, libertie or life:
That beautie rare that to Orlando seemed
Most fit of all the world to be his wife:
That beautie rare in India so esteemed,
That bred so many a blow and bloudy strife,
Is now so quite of aid and comfort rest,
Not one to speake a word for her is left.

The damsell faire drownd in a deadly sleepe,
Was tane and bound before she could awake,
Also the drowsie frier, to make him keepe
Her companie, away with them they take:
This done, they lanched out into the deepe,
And with this precious prey they homeward make,
Where in a castle they detaind her thrall,
Vntill to die her lucklesse lot should fall.

Yet such great force her passing beautie had.
Among these barbarous and sauage wights,
That they appeared sorrowfull and sad,
To wey the danger of her dolefull plights,
It seemed all of them would haue bene glad,
To haue preseru'd her many dayes and nights:
But such small store of others there remained,
At last to offer her they were constrained.

Who can the woes, the teares, the plaints rehearse,
The lamentations and the mourning sound,
That seemd ye heau'ns thēselues with noise to pearce,
To rend the rocks, and stir the stedie ground?
Her iu'ry corps conuayd (as in a hear[…]e)
By wailing wights, where they must leaue it bound:
The thought hereof in me such pang doth breed,
I can no further in this tale proceed.

Wherefore I must some other matter find,
Vntill my Muse her sorrow may as[…]wage,
For sure no cruell beast were so vnkind,
Nor Tyger in their greatest wrath and rage,
Nor any cruell tyrant can we find,
(Although there are good store in eu'ry age)
That could behold or thinke without compassion,
A Ladie bounden in so vile a fashion.

Oh had Orlando notice of her smart,
Who was to Paris gone to seeke her out,
Or those two knights whom late the fiend did part,
The which for loue of her together fought,
They would for her vse all paine, care and art,
Of death nor danger they would put no doubt:
But if they helpe not now, it is no wonder,
Sith they and she were plac'd so farre asunder.

Now in this time to Paris siege was layd,
By famous Agramant Traianos sonne,
Of which at last they grew so sore afrayd,
The towne had almost of the Turks bin wonne,
Had not their vowes procur'd them heau'nly ayd,
They had bin ruind all and quite vndone,
The force of France had welnigh then bin foyled,
The holy Empire had almost bin spoyled.

For when that now the citie was on fire,
And when all hope of humane helpe was past,
Then mightie God forgetting wrath and ire,
Vpon their teares, repentance true, and fast,
At Charles his humble prayer and desire,
With helpe from heau'n releeu'd them at the last,
And sent such raine to aide the noble Prince,
As feld was seene before, and neuer since.

Now lay Orlando on his restlesse bed,
And thinks with sleepe to rest his troubled sprite,
But still a thousand thoughts possest his head,
Troubling his mind, and sleepe expelling quite:
As circles in a water cleare are spread,
When sunn[…] doth shine by day, and moone by night
Succeeding one another in a ranke,
Till all by one and one do touch the banke.

So when his mistris enterd in his thought,
(A[…] lightly she was neuer thence away)
The thought of her in him such circles wrought,
A[…] kept him waking euer night and day,
To thinke how he from India had her brought,
And that she should thus on the sodaine stray,
No[…] that he could of her true notice know,
Since Charles at Burdels had the ouerthrow.

The griefe hereof did him most nearely tuch,
And causd him often to himselfe to say,
What beast would haue bin ouerruld so much?
That when I might haue made her with me stay,
(For why her loue and zeale to me was such,
That in her life she neuer said me nay)
Yet I must suffer Namus for to guard her,
As though my selfe but little did regard her.

I s[…]ould to Charles my selfe haue rather scused,
And as I did, haue kept the damsell still;
Or if excuses all had bin refused,
I might in stead of reason pleaded will:
And rather then haue bin so much abused,
All tho'e that should resist me slay and kill,
At least I might haue got her safer keeping,
And not haue let her thus be lost with sleeping.

Where bidest thou, where wanderst thou my deare?
So yong, so louely, and so faire of […]ew?
Euen like a lambe when starres do first appeare,
(Her d[…]me and shepheard being out of vew)
[…]leateth aloud to make the shepheard heare,
And in her kind her euill hap doth rew,
Vntill the wolfe doth find her to her paine,
The silly shepherd seeking her in vaine.

Where is my loue, my ioy, my lifes delight?
Wanderst thou still[…] do not the wolues off[…]nd thee?
Or needst not thou the seruice of thy knight?
And keepest thou the flowre did so commend thee?
That flowre that me may make a happie wight,
That flowre for which I euer did defend thee,
That I forbare, to please thy mind (too chast)
Is not that flowre (alas) now gone and past?

O most vnfortunate and wretched I,
If they haue tane that sweet and precious floure,
What can I do in such a case but die?
Yea I would kill my selfe this present houre,
I would this world and that to come defie,
Earth fi[…]st my coarse and hell my soule deuoure.
And this vnto himselfe Orlando said,
With care and sorrowes being ouerlaid.

Now was the time when man, and bird, and beast
Giues to his traueld bodie due repose,
When some on beds, and some on boords do rest,
Sleepe making them forget both friends and foes.
But cares do thee Orlando so molest,
That scarce thou canst thine eyes a little close,
And yet that fugitiue and little slumber,
With dreames vnplea[…]ant thee doth vex and cumber.

He dreamt that standing by a pleasant greene,
Vpon a bank with fragrant flowres all painted,
He saw the fairest sight that erst was seene,
I meane that face with which he was acquainted,
And those two stars that Cupid fits between,
Whence came that shaft whose head his heart hath tainted,
The sight whereof did breed in him that pleasure,
That he preferd before all worldly treasure.

He thought himselfe the fortunatest wight
That euer was, and eke the blessedst louer:
But lo a storme destroyd the flowers quite,
And all the pleasant banke with haile did couer:
Then suddenly departed his delight,
Which he remaind all hopelesse to recouer;
She being of this tempest so afraid,
That in the wood to saue her selfe she straid.

And there (vnhappie wretch) against his will,
He lost his Ladie in vnluckie howre:
But her to find againe he traueld still,
Employing to her safetie all his powre,
The woods and deserts he with plaints doth fill,
And cride, alas, turnd is my sweet to sowre:
And while these same and such like words he said,
He thought he heard her voice demaunding aid.

At this same voice (well knowne) a while he staid,
Then followd as the sound him guided most,
With this mischance his mind was much dismaid,
His body sore with to[…]le and trauell tost:
When straight he heard another voice, that said,
Now hope no more, for all thy hope is lost.
And of the sodaine waking with the sound,
His eies all full of watry teares he found.

So sore he was affrighted at this vision,
That eu'n as though it had bene so indeed,
And not a fancie vaine or apparition,
Thinking his Lady […]ood of him in need:
In secretfo[…]t he getteth all prouision,
To make repaire vnto her aid with speed:
And (for he would not willingly be knowne)
He tooke nor man nor armor of his owne.

His coate of armes, of colour white and red,
He lest behind for doubt of ill successe,
That if it fortund he but euill sped,
At least the losse and […]oile should be the lesse,
Vpon his armor cypresse blacke he spred,
With colour sad, his sorrow to expresse.
And thus disguild in sad and mourning hue,
He parts, and biddeth not his friends adue.

Not of king Charles, whose kinsman he is neare,
Nor taketh he his leaue of Brandimart,
Nor yet to kinsman kind, or friend most deare,
Doth he his meaning open or impart:
Nor vntill day did all abrode appeare,
Was Charles aduised that he did depart.
But in great rage and choler when he knew it,
He sware and vowd Orlando sore should rue it.

A[…] which good Brandimart was greatly greeued,
As one that deem'd it was without de[…]art,
And (that his frend by him might be releeued)
To find him out from thence he straight doth part,
For by his words, he certainly beleeued,
That he could ease his frend Orlandos smart,
But this to Fiordeledge he not imparted,
For feare that she his purpose would haue thwarted.

This Fiordeledge of him was dearely loued,
A Lady of great beautie and cleare fame,
Of parents good, of manners vnreproued,
Both wealthie, wise, and modest to the same,
Yet taketh he no leaue of his beloued,
But early in the morning from her came.
To turne that night was his determination,
But was deceiued of his expectation.

And when she waited had a month or more,
Expecting his returne, and all in vaine,
For loue of him she was inflam'd so sore,
Alone she goes to finde him out againe,
And manie sorrie haps she bid therefore,
As in the storie, shalbe showed plaine,
For of Orlando now I haue to say,
That is of more importance then both thay,

Who hauing chang'd the armes he late did we are,
Directly to the Citie gate he went,
And told the Sentnell, softly in his eare,
What was his name, and what was his intent:
Who straight abast the bridge, without all feare,
(Supposing sure his vncle had him sent:)
And straight vpon the Pagan campe he lighted,
As in the booke ensuing is recited.