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; 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 Did never pledge herself, nor ever mean To dip a finger in that wench's pie— -Much good may't do him!-Gentles all, "good bye.” |