With more to guard the encampment from surprise,
When 'mid the equal intervals, at night,
Medoro gazed on heaven with sleepy eyes.
In all his talk, the stripling, woeful wight,
Here cannot choose, but of his lord devise,
The royal Dardinel; and evermore
Him left unhonored on the field, deplore.
Then, turning to his mate, cries, "Cloridane,
I cannot tell thee what a cause of woe
It is to me, my lord upon the plain