All the life now which I desire to have,
Is just enough to give my lord a grave.

"If you've a Theban heart, and birds of prey Must have their food before your rage can cool, Feast them on me; only do let me lay

His limbs in earth, that has been used to rule."
So spake the young Medoro, in a way
To turn a rock, it was so beautiful.

As for the prince, so deeply was he mov'd,
That all at once he pardon'd and he lov’d.

A ruffian, at this juncture, of the band, Little restrain❜d by what restrain'd the rest, Thrust with his lance across the suppliant's hand, And pierc'd his delicate and faithful breast. The act,-in one too under his command,Displeas'd the princely chief, and much distress'd; The more so, as the poor boy dropp'd his head, And fell so pale that all believ'd him dead.

Such was his grief, and such was his disdain, That crying out, "The blood be on his head !" He turn'd in wrath, to give the thrust again; But the false villain, ere the words were said, Put spurs into his horse and fled amain, Stooping his rascal shoulders, as he fled.

Cloridan, when he sees Medoro fall,

Leaps from the wood, and comes defying all;

And casts away his bow, and almost mad,
Goes slashing round among his enemies,
Rather for death, than any hope he had
Of cutting his revenge to its fit size.

His blood soon colour'd many a dripping blade,
And he perceives with pleasure that he dies;
And so his strength being fairly at an end,

He lets himself fall down beside his friend.

The troop then follow'd where their chief had gone, Pursuing his stern chase among the trees, And leave the two companions there alone, One surely dead, the other scarcely less. Long time Medoro lay without a groan, Losing his blood in such large quantities, That life would surely have gone out at last, Had not a helping hand been coming past.

ANGELICA AND MEDORO.

THE SEQUEL OF THE PRECEDING STORY.

THERE came by chance a damsel passing there,
Cloak'd like a peasant, to eschew surprise,
But of a royal presence, and so fair,

As well behov'd her keep grave maiden eyes.
'Tis so long since I told you news of her,
Perhaps you know her not in this disguise.
This, you must know then, was Angelica,
Proud daughter of the Khan of great Cathay.

You know the magic ring, and her distress?
Well, when she had recover'd this same ring,
It so increased her pride and haughtiness,
She seem'd too high for any living thing.*
She goes alone, desiring nothing less
Than a companion, even though a king:
She even scorns to recollect the flame
Of one Orlando, or his very name.

But, above all, she hates to recollect

That she had taken to Rinaldo so;†

*The ring conferred the power of invisibility.

Another of the Peers or Paladins of Charlemagne, second only in renown to Orlando.

She thinks it the last want of self-respect,

Pure degradation, to have look'd so low

"Such arrogance," said Cupid, "must be check'd.” The little God betook him with his bow,

To where Medoro lay, and standing by,
Held the shaft ready with a lurking eye.

Now when the princess saw the youth all pale, And found him grieving with his bitter wound, Not for what one so young might well bewail, But that his king should not be laid in ground, She felt a something, strange and gentle, steal Into her heart by some new way it found, Which touch'd its hardness, and turn'd all to grace; And more so, when he told her all his case.

And calling to her mind the little arts

Of healing, which she learnt in India,
(For 'twas a study valued in those parts,
Even for those who were in sovereign sway,
And yet so easy, too, that like the heart's,
"Twas more inherited than learnt, they say,)
She cast about, with herbs and balmy juices,
To save so fair a life for all its uses.

And thinking of an herb that caught her As she was coming, in a pleasant plain,

eye

(Whether 'twas panacea, dittany,

Or some such herb accounted sovereign

For staunching blood quickly and tenderly,
And winning out all spasm and bad pain,)
She found it not far off, and gathering some,
Return'd with it to save Medoro's bloom.

In coming back she met upon the way
A shepherd, who was riding through the wood.
To find a heifer that had gone astray,

And been two days about the solitude.
She took him with her where Medoro lay,
Now feebler than he was, with loss of blood:
So much he lost, and drew so hard a breath,
That he was now fast fading to his death.

Angelica got off her horse in haste,

And made the shepherd get as fast from his;
She ground the herbs with stones, and then express'd
With her white hands the balmy milkiness,

Then dropp'd it in the wound, and bath'd his breast,

His sides, and spine, and all that was amiss:

And of such virtue was it, that at length

The blood was stopp'd, and he look'd round with

strength.