LI.
Day after day the good Rinaldo fares,
Forced by the wind, the spacious ocean through;
Now westward borne, and now towards the Bears;
For night and day the ceaseless tempest blew.
Scotland at last her dusky coast uprears,
And gives the Caledonian wood to view;
Which, through its shadowy groves of ancient oak,
Oft echoes to the champion’s sturdy stroke.
LII.
Through this roves many a famous cavalier,
Renowned for feat in arms, of British strain;
And throng from distant land, or country near,
French, Norse, or German knights, a numerous train.
Let none, save he be valiant, venture here,
Where, seeking glory, death may be his gain.
Here Arthur, Galahalt and Gauvaine fought[6],
And well Sir Launcelot and Tristram wrought.
LIII.
And other worthies of the table round;
(Of either table, whether old or new)[7]
Whose trophies yet remain upon the ground;
Proof of their valiant feats. Rinaldo true
Forthwith his armour and Bayardo found,
And landed on the woody coast: The crew
He bade, with all the haste they might, repair
To Berwick’s neighbouring port, and wait him there.
