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XCIV.

Much press'd is now the victor to remain

Beneath their roof by each enamour'd spouse; When sudden, gallop, gallop, o'er the plain,

With bloody spurs, horse breathless, reins thrown loose, A courier comes express from Charlemagne,

The emperor's favourite Moor, and brings the news That once again in France unchristian wár-is-sèen, 95 And Paris close besieged by heath'nish Sá-rà-cèn.

XCV.

Rinaldo starts; bows low; and mounts his horse;
Hies to the shore; and there embarks for France;

Exclaiming loud, as he pursues his course,

"When I get home, I'll lead the knaves a dance."-But here my weary Muse must pause perforce:

Mark how she hobbles now when she would prance. To-morrow, with your leave, in livelier verse New and more strange adventures she'll rehearse.

Next day our Forteguerri's Muse renew'd
Her extracts from thy work, grave Garbolin!
But mine, fair reader, be it understood,

Did never pledge herself, nor ever mean
In English rhyme the promise to make good.—
-I'm told another wight of late was seen

To dip a finger in that wench's pie—

-Much good may't do him!-Gentles all, "good bye.”

NOTES.

Vix ea nostra voco."

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