Scarce half a league from Gelva the knight dismounted stood,
Leaning upon his upright spear, and bitter was his mood.
He thought upon Celinda's curse, and Zaida's fickle mind,
"Ah, Fortune, thou to me," he cried, "hast ever proved unkind."
And from his valiant bosom burst a storm of angry sighs,
And acts and words of anguish before his memory rise.
"Celinda's loss I count as naught, nor fear her wicked will;
I were a fool, thus cursed by her, to love the lady still."
In rage from out the sod he drew his spear-head, as he spoke,
And in three pieces shivered it against a knotted oak.