LXXXI.
Six knights on foot within the palisade
Stand covered with the corslet’s iron case;
Beneath the Duke of Albany arrayed,
Borne on a puissant steed of noble race:
Who there, as lord and high-constable obeyed,
Was keeper of the field and of the place,
And joyed Geneura’s peril to espy
With swelling bosom and exulting eye.
LXXXII.
Rinaldo pierces through the parted swarm,
(So wide is felt the good Bayardo’s sway,)
And he who hears the courser come in storm,
Halts not, in his desire to make him way:
Above is seen Rinaldo’s lofty form,
The flower of those who mix in martial fray.
He stops his horse before the monarch’s chair,
While all to hear the paladin repair.
LXXXIII.
“Dread sir,” to him the good Rinaldo said,
“Let not the pair this combat longer ply;
“Since whichsoever of the two falls dead,
“Know, that you let him perish wrongfully:
“This thinks that he is right, and is misled,
“Vouches the false, and knows not ’tis a lie:
“Since that which brought his brother to his end,
“Moves him in causeless battle to contend.
