Rogero left the palace of Logestilla, careering on his flying courser far above the tops of the mountains, and borne westward by the Hippogriff, which he guided with ease, by means of the bridle that Melissa had given him.  Anxious as he was to recover Bradamante, he could not fail to be delighted at the view his rapid flight presented of so many vast regions and populous countries as he passed over in his career.  At last he approached the shores of England, and perceived an immense army in all the splendor of military pomp, as if about to go forth flushed with hopes of victory.  He caused the Hippogriff to alight not far from the scene, and found himself immediately surrounded by admiring spectators, knights and soldiers, who could not enough indulge their curiosity and wonder.  Rogero learned, in reply to his questions, that the fine array of troops before him was the army destined to go to the aid of the French Emperor, in compliance with the request presented by the illustrious Rinaldo, as ambassador of King Charles, his uncle.

By this time the curiosity of the English chevaliers was partly gratified in beholding the Hippogriff at rest, and Rogero, to renew their surprise and delight, remounted the animal, and, slapping spurs to his sides, made him launch into the air with the rapidity of a meteor, and directed his flight still westwardly, till he came within sight of the coasts of Ireland.  Here he descried what seemed to be a fair damsel, alone, fast chained to a rock which projected into the sea.  What was his astonishment when, drawing nigh, he beheld the beautiful princess Angelica!  That day she had been led forth and bound to the rock, there to wait till the sea-monster should come to devour her.  Rogero exclaimed as he came near, “What cruel hands, what barbarous soul, what fatal chance can have loaded thee with those chains?” Angelica replied by a torrent of tears, at first her only response; then, in a trembling voice, she disclosed to him the horrible destiny for which she was there exposed.  While she spoke, a terrible roaring was heard far off on the sea.  The huge monster soon came in sight, part of his body appearing above the waves and part concealed.  Angelica, half dead with fear, abandoned herself to despair.

Rogero, lance in rest, spurred his Hippogriff toward the Orc, and gave him a thrust.  The horrible monster was like nothing that nature produces.  It was but one mass of tossing and twisting body, with nothing of the animal but head, eyes, and mouth, the last furnished with tusks like those of the wild boar.  Rogero’s lance had struck him between the eyes; but rock and iron are not more impenetrable than were his scales.  The knight, seeing the fruitlessness of the first blow, prepared to give a second.  The animal, beholding upon the water the shadow of the great wings of the Hippogriff, abandoned his prey, and turned to seize what seemed nearer.  Rogero took the opportunity, and dealt him furious