LXXIV.

"Oh! what a theme for mockery and mirth!
"At a mere lifeless shadow apt to tremble
"No meaner low-born peasant treads the earth.
"My father Ludwig, whom I much resemble,
"At Pisa got me-Lucia gave me birth,

"Scared by a ghost-the truth I'll not dissemble,
"And at a time when 'twas their daily habit
"To feed on nought but water-gruel and rabbit.

LXXV.

"Those giants, ugly, powerful, fierce, and hideous, "Have put me into such a strange quandary! "I see them!-Oh! they 'll make the night so tedious ! "I ne'er can sleep alone!-See!-Blessed Mary! "Lord! how they stare! and then that witch insidious ! "—Sir, with your wife all night I fain would tarry." Mine host, grown jealous, makes him this reply— "We see your drift, Sir Knave, with half an eye."

LXXVI.

With this, he catches up a piece of á stick, 84

And says, "Your folly shall have this reward;" Then brandishes the same with air gymnastic.

Rinaldo on his knees solicits hard

For pardon, in a whining strain bombastic.

Mine host does this as cowardice regard,

And hits him on the nob: the knight grows furious, 85 And takes him by both legs, in mode most curious,

LXXVII.

And round the chamber makes the lubbard swing;
As long ago old Jesse's son was seen
Whirling the fatal stone in leathern sling,
Which laid Goliath sprawling on the green.
But soon the wife, with tears and blubbering,
Hath quell'd our gallant hero's wrathful spleen;
And, for her sake, he lays her husband down
Quite stunn'd, as one asleep, or in a swoon,

LXXVIII.

To bed the Knight betakes him, till the sky
Was dyed vermilion by the opening dawn;
Then up, in arms of proof, and spirits high,

Alone, on foot, he treads the dewy lawn;
But first o'er a small book he casts his eye,

(Gift of a dame on whom he used to fawn) To see if aught of useful knowledge he Might haply reap from her astrology,

LXXIX.

There reads (at page six hundred forty-five)

What her profound foreknowledge doth command,

How he the fay must bind, and burn alive;
And, gathering up the ashes in his hand,

Strew them where most the doe had use to drive
Her once betrothed buck along the strand
In furious speed, sans pity or remorse,
Impell'd by sorcery's resistless force,

LXXX.

How, passing o'er that path, they each shall doff
(Doe-bride and bridegroom-buck) their bestial hide,
And he, a buck no more, shall lead her off,
Making this whilom doe (so long a bride)
His wife, who many a hymeneal strophe

Shall joyous sing, right blithely, by his side; "But mind, if you release the captived witch,

"She'll whip you dead with scourge of giant Stritch.”

LXXXI.

He scales the mount-Traggéa hears the clang

Of arms, and spies the Knight-then bawls, "Some

broth

"Would'st have, my lad ?" (in Babylonish slang) 86

66

Come, win it first.”—Rinaldo, waxing wroth,

Cries, "Beast! right soon we'll give thee such a bang,

""T will change to dying groans thy vapouring froth." -Traggéa hurls huge stone with hasty hand 87

At our brave Peer-He ducks, and draws his brand.—

LXXXII.

His brand he draws, and, darting on him quick,
A deadly wound inflicts above the groin.

A sword it was to pierce through armour thick
Of brightest steel-point, blade, and dudgeon fine.
The Patagonian brute grows wondrous sick,

Then headlong grunts, and dies like loathsome swine, 88 When Striccia sees the downfal of his fellow,

He roars! the mountain groans! the rocks rebellow!

LXXXIII.

Thunder'd his voice! as lightning flash'd his eye! 89

And, lo! his switch he levels at our Knight, (So sudden, had he wish'd, he could not fly) Aiming a blow that must have crush'd him quite;

By feint Rinaldo turns the stroke awry,

90

Then driveth at his foe, with main and might,
Falchion which never yet its object miss'd;
And leaves each arm a stump without a fist.