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Pagans shout for joy, and hopeful said,

       Those good beginnings would have endings blest:

       Against the rest on went the noble maid,

       She broke the helm, and pierced the armed breast,

       Her men the paths rode through made by her sword,

       They pass the stream where she had found the ford.

      XVI

       Soon was the prey out of their hands recovered,

       By step and step the Frenchmen gan retire,

       Till on a little hill at last they hovered,

       Whose strength preserved them from Clorinda's ire:

       When, as a tempest that hath long been covered

       In watery clouds breaks out with sparkling fire,

       With his strong squadron Lord Tancredi came,

       His heart with rage, his eyes with courage flame.

      XVII

       Mast great the spear was which the gallant bore

       That in his warlike pride he made to shake,

       As winds tall cedars toss on mountains hoar:

       The king, that wondered at his bravery, spake

       To her, that near him seated was before,

       Who felt her heart with love's hot fever quake,

       "Well shouldst thou know," quoth he, "each Christian knight,

       By long acquaintance, though in armor dight.

      XVIII

       "Say, who is he shows so great worthiness,

       That rides so rank, and bends his lance so fell?"

       To this the princess said nor more nor less,

       Her heart with sighs, her eyes with tears, did swell;

       But sighs and tears she wisely could suppress,

       Her love and passion she dissembled well,

       And strove her love and hot desire to cover,

       Till heart with sighs, and eyes with tears ran over:

      XIX

       At last she spoke, and with a crafty sleight

       Her secret love disguised in clothes of hate:

       "Alas, too well," she says, "I know that knight,

       I saw his force and courage proved late,

       Too late I viewed him, when his power and might

       Shook down the pillar of Cassanoe's state;

       Alas what wounds he gives! how fierce, how fell!

       No physic helps them cure, nor magic's spell.

      XX

       "Tancred he hight, O Macon, would he wear

       My thrall, ere fates him of this life deprive,

       For to his hateful head such spite I bear,

       I would him reave his cruel heart on live."

       Thus said she, they that her complainings hear

       In other sense her wishes credit give.

       She sighed withal, they construed all amiss,

       And thought she wished to kill, who longed to kiss.

      XXI

       This while forth pricked Clorinda from the throng

       And 'gainst Tancredi set her spear in rest,

       Upon their helms they cracked their lances long,

       And from her head her gilden casque he kest,

       For every lace he broke and every thong,

       And in the dust threw down her plumed crest,

       About her shoulders shone her golden locks,

       Like sunny beams, on alabaster rocks.

      XXII

       Her looks with fire, her eyes with lightning blaze,

       Sweet was her wrath, what then would be her smile?

       Tancred, whereon think'st thou? what dost thou gaze?

       Hast thou forgot her in so short a while?

       The same is she, the shape of whose sweet face

       The God of Love did in thy heart compile,

       The same that left thee by the cooling stream,

       Safe from sun's heat, but scorched with beauty's beam.

      XXIII

       The prince well knew her, though her painted shield

       And golden helm he had not marked before,

       She saved her head, and with her axe well steeled

       Assailed the knight; but her the knight forbore,

       'Gainst other foes he proved him through the field,

       Yet she for that refrained ne'er the more,

       But following, "Turn thee," cried, in ireful wise;

       And so at once she threats to kill him twice.

      XXIV

       Not once the baron lifts his armed hand

       To strike the maid, but gazing on her eyes,

       Where lordly Cupid seemed in arms to stand,

       No way to ward or shun her blows he tries;

       But softly says, "No stroke of thy strong hand

       Can vanquish Tancred, but thy conquest lies

       In those fair eyes, which fiery weapons dart,

       That find no lighting place except this heart."

      XXV

       At last resolved, although he hoped small grace,

       Yet ere he did to tell how much he loved,

       For pleasing words in women's ears find place,

       And gentle hearts with humble suits are moved:

       "O thou," quoth he, "withhold thy wrath a space,

       For if thou long to see my valor proved,

       Were it not better from this warlike rout

       Withdrawn, somewhere, alone to fight it out?

      XXVI

       "So singled, may we both our courage try:"

       Clorinda to that motion yielded glad,

       And helmless to the forestward gan hie,

       Whither the prince right pensive wend and sad,

       And there the virgin gan him soon defy.

       One blow she strucken, and he warded had,

       When he cried, "Hold, and ere we prove our might,

       First hear thou some conditions of the fight."

      XXVII

       She stayed, and desperate love had made him bold;

       "Since from the fight thou wilt no respite give,

       The covenants be," he said, "that thou unfold

       This wretched bosom, and my heart out rive,

       Given thee long since, and if thou, cruel, would

       I should be dead, let me no longer live,

       But pierce this breast, that all the world may say,

       The eagle made the turtle-dove her prey.

      XXVIII

       "Save with thy grace, or let thine anger kill,

       Love hath disarmed my life of all defence;

       An easy labor harmless blood

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