LIV.
The good Rogero, who from Fame had learned
That he was cousin to the dame he wooed,
Lamented much the sad Astolpho, turned
From his true form, to barren plant and rude:
And for her love, for whom so sore he burned,
Would gladly serve the stripling if he cou’d:
But, witless how to give the wished relief,
Might but console the unhappy warrior’s grief.
LV.
As best he could, he strove to soothe his pain;
Then asked him, if to Logistil’s retreat
Were passage, whether over hill or plain;
That he might so eschew Alcina’s seat.
—‘There was a way,’ the myrtle said again,
—‘But rough with stones, and rugged to the feet—
‘If he, some little further to the right,
‘Would scale the Alpine mountain’s very height:
LVI.
‘But that he must not think he shall pursue
‘The intended journey far; since by the way
‘He will encounter with a frequent crew,
‘And fierce, who serve as rampart to the fay,
‘That block the road against the stranger, who
‘Would break her bounds, and the deserter stay.’
Rogero thanked the tree for all, and taught,
Departed thence with full instructions fraught.
