But his guide did not leave him much time to look about him.  He conducted him with due speed into a valley that contained, in one miraculous collection, whatsoever had been lost or wasted on earth.  I do not speak only (says the poet) of riches and dominions, and such like gratuities of Fortune, but of things also which Fortune can neither grant nor resume.  Much fame is there which Time has withdrawn—­infinite prayers and vows which are made to God Almighty by us poor sinners.  There lie the tears and the sighs of lovers, the hours lost in pastimes, the leisures of the dull, and the intentions of the lazy.  As to desires, they are so numerous that they shadow the whole place.  Astolfo went round among the different heaps, asking what they were.  His eyes were first struck with a huge one of bladders which seemed to contain mighty sounds and the voices of multitudes.  These he found were the Assyrian and Persian monarchies, together with those of Greece and Lydia.[9] One heap was nothing but hooks of silver and gold, which were the presents, it seems, made to patrons and great men in hopes of a return.  Another consisted of snares in the shape of garlands, the manufacture of parasites.  Others were verses in praise of great lords, all made of crickets which had burst themselves with singing.  Chains of gold he saw there, which were pretended and unhappy love-matches; and eagles’ claws, which were deputed authorities; and pairs of bellows, which were princes’ favours; and overturned cities and treasuries, being treasons and conspiracies; and serpents with female faces, that were coiners and thieves; and all sorts of broken bottles, which were services rendered in miserable courts.  A great heap of overturned soup[10] he found to be alms to the poor, which had been delayed till the giver’s death.  He then came to a great mount of flowers, which once had a sweet smell, but now a most rank one.  This (with submission) was the present which the Emperor Constantine made to good Pope Sylvester.[11] Heaps of twigs he saw next, set with bird-lime, which, dear ladies, are your charms.  In short there was no end to what he saw.  Thousands and thousands would not complete the list.  Every thing was there which was to be met with on earth, except folly in the raw material, for that is never exported.[12]

There he beheld some of his own lost time and deeds; and yet, if nobody had been with him to make him aware of them, never would he have recognised them as his.[13]

They then arrived at something, which none of us ever prayed God to bestow, for we fancy we possess it in superabundance; yet here it was in greater quantities than any thing else in the place—­I mean, sense.  It was a subtle fluid, apt to evaporate if not kept closely; and here accordingly it was kept in vials of greater or less size.  The greatest of them all was inscribed with the following words:  “The sense of Orlando.”  Others, in like manner, exhibited the names of the proper possessors;