And now the Saracen with wary view
       Had pierced his weasand with the pointed sword. 
     Four others he near that Diviner slew,
       Nor gave the wretches time to say a word. 
     Sir Turpin in his story tells not who,
       And Time has of their names effaced record. 
     Palidon of Moncalier next he speeds;
     One who securely sleeps between two steeds.

* * * * *

     Rearing th’ insidious blade, the pair are near
       The place where round King Charles’s pavilion
     Are tented warlike paladin and peer,
       Guarding the side that each is camped upon,
     When in good time the Paynims backward steer,
       And sheathe their swords, the impious slaughter done;
     Deeming impossible, in such a number,
     But they must light on one who does not slumber.

     And though they might escape well charged with prey,
       To save themselves they think sufficient gain. 
     Thither by what he deems the safest way
       (Medoro following him) went Cloridane
     Where in the field, ’mid bow and falchion lay,
       And shield and spear, in pool of purple stain,
     Wealthy and poor, the king and vassal’s corse,
     And overthrown the rider and his horse.

* * * * *

     The silvery splendor glistened yet more clear,
       There where renowned Almontes’s son lay dead. 
     Faithful Medoro mourned his master dear,
       Who well agnized the quartering white and red,
     With visage bathed in many a bitter tear
       (For he a rill from either eyelid shed),
     And piteous act and moan, that might have whist
     The winds, his melancholy plaint to list;

     But with a voice supprest—­not that he aught
       Regards if any one the noise should hear,
     Because he of his life takes any thought,
       Of which loathed burden he would fain be clear;
     But lest his being heard should bring to naught
       The pious purpose which has brought them here—­
     The youths the king upon their shoulders stowed;
     And so between themselves divide the load.

     Hurrying their steps, they hastened, as they might,
       Under the cherished burden they conveyed;
     And now approaching was the lord of light,
       To sweep from heaven the stars, from earth the shade,
     When good Zerbino, he whose valiant sprite
       Was ne’er in time of need by sleep down-weighed,
     From chasing Moors all night, his homeward way
     Was taking to the camp at dawn of day.

     He has with him some horsemen in his train,
       That from afar the two companions spy. 
     Expecting thus some spoil or prize to gain,
       They, every one, toward that quarter hie. 
     “Brother, behoves us,” cried young Cloridane,
       “To cast away the load we bear, and fly;
     For ’twere a foolish thought (might well be said)
     To lose two living men, to save one dead;”