LXIII
"Meseemeth, if to you it seemeth good,
Ye should propose to Charles the war to end;
And that, to spare the constant waste of blood,
Which his, and countless of your warriors spend,
He — by a knight of yours to be withstood —
A champion, chosen from his best should send;
And those two all the warfare wage alone,
Till one prevails, and one is overthrown;
LXIV
"On pact the king, whose champion in the just
Is loser, tribute to that other pay.
Nor will this pact displease King Charles, I trust,
Though his was the advantage in the fray.
Then of his arms Rogero so robust
I deem, that he will surely win the day;
Who would prevail (so certain is our right)
Though Mars himself should be his opposite."
LXV
With these and other sayings yet more sound,
So wrought Sobrino, he his end obtained;
And on that day interpreters were found,
And they that day to Charles their charge explained.
Charles, whom such matchless cavaliers surround.
Believes the battle is already gained;
And chooses good Rinaldo for the just,
Next to Orlando in his sovereign's trust.
LXVI
In this accord like cause for pleasure find,
As well the Christian as the paynim foe:
For, harassed sore in body and in mind,
Those warriors all were weary, all were woe.
Each in repose and quietude designed
To pass what time remained to him below:
Each cursed the senseless anger and the hate
Which stirred their hearts to discord and debate.
LXVII
Rinaldo felt himself much magnified,
That Charles, for what in him so strong weighed,
More trusted him than all his court beside,
And glad the honoured enterprise assayed:
Rogero he esteemed not in his pride,
And thought he ill could keep him from his blade.
Nor deemed the Child could equal him in fight,
Albeit he slew in strife the Tartar knight.
LXVIII
Rogero, though much honoured, on his part,
That him his king has chosen from the rest,
To whom a trust so weighty to impart,
As of his many martial lords the best,
Yet shows a troubled face; not that the heart
Of that good knight unworthy fears molest;
Not only none Rinaldo would have bred;
Him, with Orlando leagued, he would not dread —
LXIX
But because sister of the Christian knight
(He knows) is she, his consort true and dear;
That to the stripling evermore did write,
As one sore injured by that cavalier.
Now, if to ancient sins he should unite
A mortal combat with Montalban's peer,
Her, although loving, will he anger so,
Not lightly she her hatred will forego.
LXX
If silently Rogero made lament
That he in his despite must battle do;
In sobs his consort dear to hers gave vent,
When shortly to her ears the tidings flew.
She beat her breast, her golden tresses rent:
Fast, scalding tears her innocent cheeks bedew:
She taxes young Rogero as ingrate,
And aye cries out upon her cruel fate.
LXXI
Nought can result to Bradamant but pain,
Whatever is the doubtful combat's end.
She will not think Rogero can be slain;
For this, 'twould seem, her very heart would rend;
And should our Lord the fall of France ordain,
That kingdom for more sins than one to amend,
The gentle maid, beside a brother's loss,
Would have to weep a worse and bitterer cross.
LXXII
For, without shame and scorn, she never may,
Not without hatred of her kin combined,
To her loved lord return in such a way
As that it may be known of all mankind;
As, thinking upon this by night and day,
She oftentimes had purposed in her mind;
And so by promise both were tied withal,
Room for repentance and retreat was small.