Thy pride and strength! Orelio, my good horse,
Once more thou bearest to the field thy Lord,
He who so oft hath fed and cherish’d thee,
He for whose sake, wherever thou wert seen,
Thou wert by all men honour’d. Once again
Thou hast thy proper master! Do thy part
As thou wert wont; and bear him gloriously,
My beautiful Orelio, ... to the last ...
The happiest of his fields!... Then he drew forth
The scymitar, and waving it aloft,